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HE  TRAGEDIE 


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CHAPMAN'S    TRAGEDIES 


New  Volumes  in  the 

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CHAPMAN  (GEORGE)  :  Complete  Works,  edited  with  Intro 
duction,  various  Readings  and  Notes  by  T.  F.  PARROTT, 
Professor  of  English  Literature  in  the  University  of 
Princeton.  Each  Play  carefully  collated  with  the  Quartos 
in  the  British  Museum,  the  Bodleian  Library,  and  libraries 
on  the  Continent.  3  vols.,  8vo,  cloth  extra,  each  6s. 
1.  Tragedies.  2.  Comedies.  3.  Poems. 

CY^EWULF  :  Poems.  Translated  into  English  Prose,  and 
edited  by  Prof.  C.  W.  KENNEDY,  Ph.D.,  with  an  Intro 
duction.  Crown  8vo,  cloth  extra,  6s. 

Roman  Life  and  Manners  under  the  Early  Empire.  By 
LUDWIG  FRIEDLAENDER.  Translated,  with  the  author's 
consent,  from  the  7th  edition  of  the  "  Sittengeschichte 


Roms,"  by  J.  H.  FREESE,  M.A.,  and  LEONARD  A.  MAGNUS, 
LL.B.     Cloth  extra,  gilt,  crown  8vo.     3  vols.     Each  6s. 
LETTERS    OF    LITERARY    MEN    OF    THE    NINETEENTH 


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mentary,  by  F.  A.  MUMBY,  with  16  full-page  Photogravure 
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Already  issued. 

BIESE :  Development  of  the  Feeling  for  Nature. 
CURLE  :  Aspects  of  George  Meredith. 
SMYTHE  PALMER  (edited)  :  The  Ideal  of  a  Gentleman. 
SUCKLING  :   Complete  Poetical  Works.  Edited  by  A.  HAMIL 
TON  THOMPSON. 

TAYLOR  :   Words  and  Places,  edited  by  Dr.  SMYTHE  PALMER. 
WALTON  :    Complete  Angler  :    Major's  edition,  illustrated. 


THE  PLAYS  AND  POEMS 

OF 

GEORGE  CHAPMAN 

THE    TRAGEDIES 


EDITED  WITH  INTRODUCTIONS 
AND   NOTES 

By 
THOMAS  MARC  PARROTT,  Ph.D 

PROFESSOR  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE  AT 
PRINCETON   UNIVERSITY 


- 

LONDON 

GEORGE   ROUTLEDGE   &   SONS,  LIMITED 
NEW  YORK  :    E.  P.  BUTTON  &  CO 


First  printed  in  1910. 

Pf> 


' 


p 


FREDERICK  JAMES  FURNIVALL 
3n  flfcemortam 


PREFACE 

THIS,  the  first  volume  of  a  new  edition  of  the  plays  and  poems 
of  George  Chapman,  includes  his  tragedies,  Bussy  D'Ambois, 
The  Revenge  of  Bussy,  The  Conspiracy  and  Tragedy  of  Byron, 
Chabot,  and  Ccesar  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  *ne  nrs^  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 
this  goal  that  he  has  aimed  in  the  preparation  of  the  present 
edition, 

vii 


Vlll 


PREFACE 


The  text  has  been  the  object  of  peculiar  care.  Founded  in 
every  case  but l  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  modern  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  with  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  modern  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,  murther,  shipwrack,  and  porcpisc. 
Here  I  have  in  the  main  followed  the  guidance  of  the  New  English 
Dictionary,  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 
dealing  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  modern  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 

1  The  one  exception  is  Bussy  D'Ambois,  where  the  edition  of  1641  presents 
Chapman's  own  revision  of  his  test.    See  Notes,  p.  541, 


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 1  of  denoting  the  contracted 
pronunciation  of  the  past  tense  and  the  past  participle  in  -ed  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  modern  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  suspection  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  modern  minds,  extremely  de 
ficient  in  stage  directions.  So  scanty  are  they,  indeed,  that 
often  it  is  difficult  to  grasp  the  situation  at  a  glance  without 
adding,  in  imagination  at  least,  the  stage  directions  that  a 
modern  author  would  supply.  To  facilitate  the  reading,  then, 
of  Shakespeare  or  of  Chapman,  I  believe  that  a  modern  editor 
is  justified  in  introducing  whatever  stage  directions  may  seem 
to  him  to  conduce  to  this  end.  On  the  other  hand,  to  omit 
to  distinguish  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  direction  where- 
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  Instances  of  this  usage  may  be  found  in  the  first  lines  of  the  first  play  of 
this  volume,  Bussy,  I,  i.  19  and  22.  Cf,  with  these  I,  i,  44. 


x  PREFACE 

One  addition  alone  is  not  so  marked.  Where  the  old  texts 
gave  us  no "  list  of  the  dramatis  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 
marked  as  usual. 

For  the  convenience  of  the  reader  and  for  the  purposes  of 
reference  I  have  divided  the  usually  2  unbroken  acts  of  the 
original  into  scenes  and  have  numbered  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  peculiar  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  far  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  solution. 

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  Chapman's  use  of  his  sources,  to  his  borrowings  from 
the  classics,  to  parallels  with  other  Elizabethan  writers,  and  to 
parallels  with  other  passages  in  his  own  work  illustrative  of  his 
trick  of  repetition. 

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

1  This  is  the  case,  for  example,  with  Bussy,  The  Conspiracy  and  Tragedy  of 
Byron,  and  Chabot. 

*  Revenge  for  Honour  alone  of  the  plays  in  this  volume  presents  the  modern 
division  into  scenes. 


PREFACE  xi 

contemporary  and  modern,  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  the  old  texts  are,  of  course,  given  verbatim  et 
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  modern  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  Furnivall,  to  whom  this  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  Quellenstudien  zu  den  Dramen 
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  t}   , 
to  thank  Mr.  T.  L  Wise,  of  London,  and  Mr.  Armour,  of  Prince-*- 
ton,  for  their  kinoness  in  allowing  me  the  use  of  their  copies  of  ^  dJ^ 
old  editions  of  Chapman.     And  finally  along  with  hundreds  of  Af*^ 
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 


PAGE 

PREFACE vii 

LIST  OF  CORRIGENDA xiv 

BUSSY   D'AMBOIS I 

THE  REVENGE  OF  Bussv  D'AMBOIS 75 

THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  CHARLES  DUKE  OF  BYRON  149 
THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  .  .  .273 
THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  .  .  .  -339 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  .  .401 
REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  -473 

NOTES  : — 

BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  . 541 

THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS          .         .         .         .  571 

THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON    '  ."        .   |      .  591 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT       .     '  v.!^  :  *.;     ^^'   •'  «V»      .  631 

CAESAR  AND  POMPEY       .          .        •. '/'• :  •)  '&  •  '-V.i  .!  .y^.      .  655 

ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY       nctf  >A  3  -     .         .  683 

REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 713 


nil 


ERRATA. 


Page  15,  1.  146,  for  a  read  o'. 

32,  in  the  headline,  for  Act  II  read  Act  III. 

50,  1.  183,  for  Chymaera  read  Chimaera. 

80,  for  ghost[s]  read  Ghost[s\. 

84,  supply  the  marginal  number  150. 
109,  1.  159,  for  Char,  read  [Char.]. 
116,  1.  96,  for  Casimir  read  Casimer. 
125,  1.  38,  for  Bastile  read  Bastille. 

146,  1.  170,  dele  the  comma  after  mind. 

147,  1.  210,  for  Char,  read  [Char.]. 

174, 1.  144  and  elsewhere,  for  Fountaine  Fran9oise  read  Fontaine 

Fran£aise. 
283,  1.  68,  for  realities  read  realties. 

288,  1.  46,  for  others  read  other. 

289,  in  the  stage  direction  omit  and. 
289,  1.  77,  omit  the  before  favour. 

297,  the  marginal  number  40  should  be  one  line  lower. 

297,  omit  and  in  the  stage  direction  after  1.  42. 

302,  in  the  stage  direction  after  1.  208  for  Exit  read  Exeunt. 

318,  11.  313,  315,  316,  318,  329,  332,  include  Judge  in  brackets. 

320,    .  403,  for  home  read  [home]. 

334,    .141,  for  had  read  Had. 

353,    .  282,  for  lyncean  read  Lyncean. 

361,    .  68,  for  above  read  [a]bove. 

384,    n  the  headline  for  Act  V  read  Act  IV. 

390,    .  1 20,  for  possess  read  profess. 

400,    .  200,  for  Oot  read  Out. 

408,    .  147,  for  ton  read  tun. 

411,    .  37,  for  Lorrain  read  Lorraine. 

416,    .  243,  for  conforted  read  comforted.  < 

423,    .  181,  for  art  read  part. 

430,    .  109,  for  schelm  read  schelm. 

432,    .  29,  for  Rheinpfal[z]  read  Reinfal. 

434,  .  loo,  for  We'll  read  We['ll]. 

435,  .  146,  for  spiel  fresh  up  read  spiel  fresh  up. 

436,  .  183,  for  Ric  read  Rich. 
441,    .  348,  for  Ate  read  Ate. 
455.    •  78,  for  Li  eve  read  Siisse. 

479,    .  124,  for  Abo[la]fi  read  Abo[la]m. 

485.    •  373,  dele  the  comma  after  East. 

498,    .  4,  insert  commas  after  Do  and  affections. 

503,  .  113,  dele  the  comma  after  the  parenthesis. 

504,  .  136,  for  [Enter  Mura]  read  (Enter  Mura). 
506,    .  212,  for  befits  read  befit [s]. 

508,    .  8,  for  ton  read  tun. 
500,    .  i,  for  [without]  read  [within]. 
512,   .  149,  insert  a  dash  after  her. 
515,    .  113,  for  'Twere  read  ['Twere]. 
517,    .  200,  for  [Cries  without]  read  [Cries  within]. 
517,    .  209,  for  [Enter  Simanthes]  read  (Enter  Simanthes). 
520,    .  289,  for  starts  read  start[s]. 
537.    •  336»  for  festivals  read  festivals]. 
560,    .  24,  for  prince  read  Prince. 
563,  column  i,  1.  45,  for  like  read  likely. 
614,  1.   15,  for  261-6  read  256-61. 
626,  column  a,  for  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  out  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  :  FIELD  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  20 

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  personating  D'AMBOIS  he'll  appear 

To  faint,  or  go  less,  so  your  free  consent,  25 

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,   ^    Courtiers  ; 
L'Anou,      V     enemies  of 
Pyrhot,     J      Bussy 
Brisac,       \      Courtiers ; 
Melynell,    j      friends  of  Bussy 
Beaumond,  an  attendant  on  the 

King 

Comolet,  a  Friar 
Maffe,  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  Beauprt 
Pyra,  a  court  lady 

Courtiers,   Ladies,   Pages,   Ser 
vants,   Spirits,   &c. 


'£0 


[ACTUS    PRIMI     SCENA  PRIMA 

[A  Forest  near  Pan's] 
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  of  Fortune, 
Think  they  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,         o«  3 
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  fisherman,  that  never  pass'd 
His  country's  sight,  to  waft  and  guide  them  in  : 
So  when  we  wander  furthest  through  the  waves 
Of  glassy  Glory,  and  the  gulfs  of  State, 

Topt  with  all  titles,  spreading  all  our  reaches,  30 

As  if  each  private  arm  would  sphere  the  earth, 

5 


6  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acr  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  contain'd.     His  words  and  looks 
Are  like  the  flashes  and  the  bolts  of  Jove  ; 
His  deeds  inimitable,  like  the  sea 
That  shuts  still  as  it  opes,  and  leaves  no  tracts 
Nor  prints  of  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  follow'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.  Turn'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  Camillus  had  lurk'd  so  in  Rome, 

He  had  not  five  times  been  Dictator  there,       4  i 

Nor  four  times  triumph'd.     If  Epaminondas  70 

(Who  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  his  strength,  he  rescu'd  both 

From  imminent  ruin  ;  and  like  burnish'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  ? 

Mons.  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  still  fast,  my  heart  still  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  life 
In  sights  and  visitations  that  will  make  95 

His  eyes  as  hollow  as  his  mistress'  heart ; 
To  do  none  good,  but  those  that  have  no  need  ; 
To  gain  being  forward,  though  you  break  for  haste 
All  the  commandments  ere  you  break  your  fast ; 
But  believe  backwards,  make  your  period  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  ? 

Mons.  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 


8  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  I 

In  one  poor  suit ;  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  [with  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. 

Enter  Maflte 

Maf.     Humour  of  princes  !     Is  this   wretch   indu'd 
With  any  merit  worth  a  thousand  crowns  ?  I45 

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  in  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  me  the  command 
Of  all  his  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  Maffe. 

Bus.    Monsieur   Maffe  ?    Then,   good   Monsieur   Maffe, 
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 

How  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  willing  to  relieve  you  ?  175 

Bus.     No  merit  in  the  world,  sir. 

Maf.  That  is  strange. 

Y'are  a  poor  soldier,  are  you  ? 


io  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acr  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  him 

Swagger,  and  drink  healths  to  his  Grace's  bounty,  180 

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  velvet  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  knight'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,  yet  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  I 

Bus.     How,  Ambo,  sir  ? 

M<*f-  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  n 

Bus.     Go,  y'are  a  rascal;    hence,  away,  you  rogtie  !        215 

Maf.     What  mean  you,  sir  ? 

Bus.  Hence  !  Prate  no  more, 

Or,  by  thy  villain's  blood,  thou  prat'st  thy  last ! 
A  barbarous  groom  grudge  at  his  master's  bounty  ! 
But  since  I  know  he  would  as  much  abhor 
His  hind  should  argue  what  he  gives  his  friend,  220 

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

Exit 

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


[SCENA  SECUNDA 
•  >-.\         A  Room  in  the  Court] 

[The  curtain  is  drawn  disclosing]  Henry,  Guise,  Montsurry, 
Elenor,  Tamyra,  Beaupre,  Pero,  Charlotte,  Pyra,  An- 
nable.  [Henry  and  the  Guise  are  playing  ch,ess] 

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

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

Guise.     I  like  not  their  Court  fashion  ;  it  is  too  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  you,  cousin  Guise,  so  great  a  courtier, 
So  full  of  majesty  and  royal  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. 


la  BUSSY    D'AMBOIS  [Acr  I 

The  world  is  not  contracted  in  a  man 

With  more  proportion  and  expression,  25 

Than  in  her  Court,  her  kingdom.     Our  French  Court 

Is  a  mere  mirror  of  confusion  to  it : 

The  king  and  subject,  lord  and  every  slave, 

Dance  a  continual  hay  ;  our  rooms  of  state 

Kept  like  our  stables  ;  no  place  more  observ'd  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  lie  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,  disfigur'd  with  the  attires  of  men.  50 

Hen.  No  question  they  much  wrong  then*  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  their  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  ? 

Bus.  That's  still  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.  2]  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  will  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  the  Guise's 

Duchess, 

The  Countess  of  Montsurreau,  Beaupre. 
Come,  I'll  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. 

Duch.     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. 

Duch.     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  wife,  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  allow  a  man,  then,  four  mistresses,  when  the 
greatest  mistress  is  allowed  but  three  servants  ? 

Duch.     Where  find  you  that  statute,  sir  ?  loq 

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

Duch.     The  groom-porters  ?  *••.*•" 


14  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acr  I 

Bus.     Ay,  madam  ;   must  not  they  judge  of  all  gainings  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  ! 

Guise.  Go  to,  companion,  your  courtship's  too  saucy.  no 
Bus.  [Aside]  Saucy  !  Companion  !  'Tis  the  Guise,  but 
yet  those  terms  might  have  been  spared  of  the  Guisard.  Com 
panion  !  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  !  115 

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

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

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


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  15 

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

Bus.     Whipped  ?     Such  another  syllable  out  arth'  presence, 
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  150 
should  strow  the  chamber  like  a  rush. 

Mons.     But  leave  courting  his  wife,  then. 

Bus.     I  will  not.     I'll  court  her  in  despite  of  him.     Not 
court  her  !— 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  the 

sea, 

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  burst) 
To  make  retreat  into  his  settled  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  whispering 

Bar.  Why,  here's  the  lion,  scared  with  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,  trow  ? 

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  with 
the  conceit  ol  Monsieur's  cast  suit,  imagines  himself  to  be  the 
Monsieur. 

L'An.     And  why  not  ?  as  well  as  the  ass,  stalking  in  the  lion's  1 80 
case,  bare  himself  like  a  lion,  braying  all  the  huger  beasts  out 
of  the  forest  ? 

Pyr.     Peace,  he  looks  this  way. 


16  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [ACT  I 

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

L'An.     Faith,  I  believe  it  for  his  honour  sake. 

Pyr.     But,  if  D'Ambois  carry  it  clean  ?     Exeunt  Ladies. 

Bar.    True,  when  he  curvets  in  the  blanket. 

Pyr.     Ay,  marry,  sir. 

L'An.     'Sfoot,  see  how  he  stares  on's.  190 

Bar.     Lord  bless  us,  let's  away. 

Bus.  [To  Barrisori]  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 
jollity  ? 

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  buffoonly  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  Courtiersj]     Nay,  you  shall  have  no  odds  of  him 
in  number,  sir  ;  he's  a  gentleman  as  good  as  the  proudest  of  220 
you,  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  you  ;  and  I  will  not  endure  it. 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  17 

VAn.    Not  you,  sir  ?  225 

Bris.     No,  sir,  nor  I. 

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

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

L'An.     Come,  sir,  we'll  lead  you  a  dance.  Exeunt 

FINIS    ACTUS    PRIMI. 


ACTUS    SECUNDI    SCENA  PRIMA 

[A  Room  in  the  Court] 
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  kill  her  :  10 

Where  she  finds  any  filth  in  men,  she  feasts, 
And  with  her  black  throat  bruits  it  through  the  world 
Being  sound  and  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 


i8  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  inform'd,  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  stern  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  his  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 

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

Every  man's  look  shew'd,  fed  with  cither'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 

Pyrrho'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  years'  war)  held  up  his  brazen  lance 
For  signal  that  both  hosts  should  cease  from  arms, 
And  hear  him  speak:    so  Barrisor  (ad vis 'd) 
Ad  vane 'd  his  naked  rapier  'twixt  both  sides, 
Ripp'd  up  the  quarrel,  and  compar'd  six  lives  60 

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


Sc.  i]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  19 

But  Barrisor's  friends  (being  equally  engag'd  65 

In  the  main  quarrel)  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  scorn,  70 

That  his  wrong  should  incense  him  so  like  chaff, 

To  go  so  soon  out,  and  like  lighted  paper 

Approve  his  spirit  at  once  both  fire  and  ashes  ; 

So  drew  they  lots,  and  in  them  Fates  appointed 

That  Barrisor  should  fight  with  fiery  D'Ambois,  75 

Pyrhot  with  Melynell,  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  : 

Thrice  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  off, 

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  return'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  fell  stout  Barrisor,  that  had  stood  the  shocks 

Of  ten  set  battles  in  your  Highness'  war, 

Gainst  the  sole  soldier  of  the  world,  Navarre. 

Guise.     Oh,  piteous  and  horrid  murther  ! 

Beau.  Such  a  life.         105 

Methinks  had  metal  in  it  to  survive 


20  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acr  II 

An  age  of  men. 

Hen.  Such  often  soonest  end. 

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

Nun.     Sorrow  and  fury,  like  two  opposite  fumes  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'Ainbois,  before  fierce  L'Anou  ; 
Which  D'Ambois  seeing,  as  I  once  did  see, 
In  my  young  travels  through  Armenia, 
An  angry  unicorn  in  his  full  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'other 
Were  cut,  and  both  fell,  as  their  spirits  flew 
Upwards,  and  still  hunt  honour  at  the  view  :  1 30 

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.  All  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. 

Enter  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  D'AMBOIS  21 

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'account  of  wilful  murther  ; 
It  being  a  spice  of  justice,  where  with  life 
Offending  past  law  equal  life  is  laid 
In  equal  balance,  to  scourge  that  offence 

By  law  of  reputation,  which  to  men  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  1 60 
Or  is  offended,  or  in  wrong  or  right, 
Lay  on  this  violence ;    and  all  vaunt  themselves 
Law-menders  and  suppliers,  though  mere  butchers  ; 
Should  this  fact  (though  of  justice)  be  forgiven  ? 

Mons.     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  life, 
Which  is  above  life,  taking  th'under  value,  175 

Which,  in  the  wrong  it  did,  was  forfeit  to  him  ; 
And  in  this  fact  only  preserves  a  man 
In  his  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  pollution  ; 
Nor  on  your  scape,  nor  valour,  more  presuming 
To  be  again  so  daring. 

Bus.  My  lord,  185 


22  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acr  II 

I  loathe  as  much  a  deed  of  unjust  death, 

As  law  itself  doth  ;  and  to  tyrannize, 

Because  I  have  a  little  spirit  to  dare 

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

This  is  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, 

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

By  any  wrong  it  does,  my  life  her  slave  : 

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

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

And  do  a  justice  that  exceeds  the  law ; 

If  my  wrong  pass  the  power  of  single  valour  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, 

Offends  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  Beaufmond,  Attendants,  Nuntius  and 
Montsurry] 

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

Mons.     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  will  to  Montsurry'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,  Tamyra  and  Pero  with  a  book 
Mons.     Pray  thee  regard  thine  own  good,  if  not  mine, 
And  cheer  my  love  for  that :  you  do  not  know 


Sc.  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 

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

Mons.     Honour,  what's  that  ?  Your  second  maidenhead  :   10 
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  found  : 
Believe  it,  there's  as  small  lack  in  the  loss 
As  there  is  pain  i'th'  losing ;  archers  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 
You  live  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 ; 
You  may  have  him  at  home  ;  these  common  put-offs 
For  common  women  serve  :   '  My  honour  !  Husband  !  * 
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  ! 

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  [Acx  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. 

Mows.     Horror  of  death  !    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  born,  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-woman's  quality  ?  60 

Mons.     Farewell,   '  good  husband  !  ' 

Exit  Monsieur 

Tarn.  Farewell,  wicked  lord  ! 

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  essence  : 
That  prince  doth  high  in  virtue's  reckoning  stand 
That  will  entreat  a  vice,  and  not  command  :  75 

So  far  bear  with  him ;  should  another  man 


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. 

Tarn.  True,  my  lord,  and  never 

My  fruitless  love  shall  let  your  serious  honour ;  85 

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  morn  shall  let  me  see  you  ?  90 

Mont.  With  the  sun 

I'll  visit  thy  more  comfortable  beauties. 

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

Mont.     'Tis  late  night  now,  indeed  ;  farewell,  my  light  1 

Exit 

Tarn.     Farewell,  my  light  and  life  !    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  which  each  youngest  maid  is  grown  a  mother. 
Frailty  is  fruitful,  one  sin  gets  another  :  100 

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  form  ;  I'll  this  night  trouble 
None  of  your  services  :  make  sure  the  doors,  105 

And  call  your  other  fellows  to  their  rest. 

Pero.  I  will.  [Aside.]     Yet  I  will  watch  to  know  why  you 
watch.  Exit 

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

Languishing  winds,  and  murmuring  falls  of  waters,  no 

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


26  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  II 

Extend  your  utmost  strengths,   and  this  charm' d  hour 

Fix  like  the  Centre  !  Make  the  violent  wheels  115 

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  ! 

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  will  in, 

And  cast  myself  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  approv'd  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  all  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 :  145 

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

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  Barrisor  (whom  you 
slew) 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  27 

Did  love  her  dearly,  and  with  all  fit  means 

Hath  urg'd  his  acceptation,  of  all  which 

She  keeps  one  letter  written  in  his  blood  :  155 

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

How  much  herself  was  touch'd  in  conscience 

With  a  report  (which  is,  in  truth,  dispers'd) 

That  your  main  quarrel  grew  about  her  love, 

Lord  Barrisor  imagining  your  courtship  160 

Of  the  great  Guise's  Duchess  in  the  presence, 

Was  by  you  made  to  his  elected  mistress  : 

And  so  made  me  your  mean  now  to  resolve  her, 

Choosing  (by  my  direction)  this  night's  depth 

For  the  more  clear  avoiding  of  all  note  165 

Of  your  presumed  presence ;  and  with  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  confirmation  in  his  blood,  170 

Lest  you  should  think  report  and  she  did  feign, 

That  you  shall  so  have  circumstantial  means 

To  come  to  the  direct,  which  must  be  used  ; 

For  the  direct  is  crooked  ;  love  comes  flying ; 

The  height  of  love  is  still  won  with  denying.  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  frailty  sticks  in  them  beyond  their  sex,  185 

Which  to  reform,  reason  is  too  perplex  : 
Urge  reason  to  them,  it  will  do  no  good  ;    J  j 
Humour  (that  is  the  chariot  of  our  food 
In  everybody)  must  in  them  be  fed. 

To  carry  their  affections  by  it  bred.  190 

Stand  close  [They  retire] 

Enter  Tamyra  with  a  book 
Tarn.     Alas,  I  fear  my  strangeness  will  retire  him. 


28  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [ACT  II 

If  he  go  back,  I  die  ;    I  must  prevent  it, 

And  cheer  his  onset  with  my  sight  at  least, 

And  that's  the  most ;    though  every  step  he  takes  195 

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

Not  to  be  strange  to  that  I  most  esteem. 

Friar  [advancing].     Madam  ! 

Tarn.  Ah ! 

Friar.  You  will  pardon  me,  I  hope, 

That  so  beyond  your  expectation, 

And  at  a  time  for  visitants  so  unfit,  200 

I  (with  my  noble  friend  here)  visit  you  : 
You  know  that  my  access  at  any  time 
Hath  ever  been  admitted  ;    and  th4t  friend 
That  my  care  will  presume  to  bring  with  me 
Shall  have  all  circumstance  of  worth  in  him  205 

To  merit  as  free  welcome  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  :  210 

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  all  the  doors  are  sure,  and  all  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  imagin'd  I  was  courting  you, 
When  I  was  bold  to  change  words  with  the  Duchess, 
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  so  curious  honour, 
Can  well  resolve  your  conscience  is  most  false. 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  29 

Tarn.     And  is  it  therefore  that  you  come,  good  sir  ? 
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  true  that  a  report 
Is  spread,  alleging  that  his  love  to  me 

Was  reason  of  your  quarrel ;  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  you  now  a  thousand  fold.  245 

Exit  Tamyra  and  D'Ambois 

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

Descendit  Friar 

FINIS   ACTUS    SECUNDI 


ACTUS  TERTII  SCENA  PRIMA 

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

Bus.     Sweet  mistress,  cease,  your  conscience  is  too  nice, 
And  bites  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  : 
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  ! 
Like  to  the  horror  of  a  winter's  thunder, 

Mix'd  with  a  gushing  storm,  that  suffer  nothing  15 

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  : 


30  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acr  III 

And  so  our  ignorance  tames  us,  that  we  let 

His  shadows  fright  us  :    and  like  empty  clouds, 

In  which  our  faulty  apprehensions  forge 

The  forms  of  dragons,  lions,  elephants,  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.  Ascendit  Friar     50 

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

Tarn.     Ay,  father,  but  you  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  morn  comes  on. 

Bus.  Now,  honour'd  mistress, 

Till  farther  service  call,  all  bliss  supply  you  !  60 


Sc.  i]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  31 

Tarn.     And  you  this  chain  of  pearl,  and  my  love  only  I 
Descendit  Friar  and  D'Ambois 
It  is  not  I,  but  urgent  destiny, 

That  (as  great  statesmen  for  their  general  end          /  I 
In  politic  justice,  make  poor  men  offend) 

Enforceth  my  offence  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  still-undone  labours,  that  lays  still 

Our  powers  to  it :    as  to  the  line,  the  stone,  70 

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

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

Tarn.     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  ? 

Tarn.     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,  100 


32  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  III 

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. 

Mont.     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  will  liberally  allow. 

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

r  Come  to  the  presence  then,  and  see  great  D'Ambois 
j  (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  !    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,  Amiable, 

Charlotte,  Attendants. 

Hen.     Speak  home,  Bussy  !    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  shalt  be  my  eagle, 

And  bear  my  thunder  underneath  thy  wings  ;  5 

Truth's  words,  like  jewels,  hang  in  th'  ears  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  fears,  10 

And  bound  in  chains  ;    Truth  seldom  decks  kings'  ears. 
Slave  Flattery  (like  a  rippier's  legs  roll'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  rageth  in  his  entrails  when  he  can, 
Worse  than  the  poison  of  a  red-hair 'd  man. 
$$Hen.     Fly  at  him  and  his  brood  !  I  cast  thee  off, 
And  once  more  give  thee  surname  of  mine  eagle.  20 

Bus.     I'll  make  you  sport  enough,  then  :    let  me  have 
My  lucerns  too,  or  dogs  inur'd  to  hunt 
Beasts  of  most  rapine,  but  to  put  them  up, 
And  if  I  truss  not,  let  me  not  be  trusted. 
Show  me  a  great  man  (by  the  people's  voice,  25 

Which  is  the  voice  of  God)  that  by  his  greatness 
Bombasts  his  private  roofs  with  public  riches  ; 
That  affects  royalty,  rising  from  a  clapdish  ; 
That  rules  so  much  more  by  his  suffering  king, 
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'll  play  the  vulture,  and  so  thump  his  liver, 
That,  like  a  huge  unlading  Argosy, 
He  shall  confess  all,  and  you  then  may  hang  him. 
Show  me  a  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 

C.D.W.  D 


34  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  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  extortion, 

The  sanctuary  and  impregnable  defence 

Of  retir'd  learning  and  besieged  virtue) 

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

Into  the  damned  sins  it  punisheth  ;  55 

Into  the  synagogue  of  thieves  and  atheists, 

Blood  into  gold,  and  justice  into  lust — 

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

He  shall  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.         70 

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]  born. 

Bus.  He  is  not ;  I  am  noble. 

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

Guise.  Th'art  not  nobly  born, 

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  85 

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 !     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  fall 
All  our  dissensions  rise  ;  that  in  himself 
(Without  the  outward  patches  of  our  frailty, 
Riches  and  honour)  knows  he  comprehends 
Worth  with  the  greatest  :  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  turn'd  unjustly  to  the  hand  of  Fortune, 
Had  all  preserved  her  in  her  prime,  like  D'Ambois ;  ^ 
No  envy,  no  disjunction  had  dissolv'd, 
Or  pluck'd  one  stick  out  of  the  golden  faggot 
In  which  the  world  of  Saturn  bound  our  lives,  105 

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  soon 
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  115 

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       120 


36  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  III 

Decline  not  to  the  greater  insolence, 

Nor  make  you  think  it  a  prerogative, 

To  rack  men's  freedoms  with  the  ruder  wrongs, 

My  hand  (stuck  full  of  laurel,  in  true  sign 

Tis  wholly  dedicate  to  righteous  peace)  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  ! 

Mont.  Oh,  sir,  has  she  met  you  ? 

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  Jove's  great  ordinance  shall  be  here  implied 
To  strike  him  under  th'  Etna  of  his  pride  : 
To  which  work  lend  your  hands,  and  let  us  cast 
I  Where  we  may  set  snares  for  his  ranging  greatness  : 
**•!  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,  160 

Being  old,  and  cunning  in  his  lairs  and  haunts, 

Can  never  be  disco  ver'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  our  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.  ;  v. 

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. 

Mont.     What,  skittish,  servant  ? 

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

Char.     Pray  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  ! 
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  speak 
and  much  the  rather,  because  my  lady  hath  not  trusted  me 
with  that  I  can  tell  you  ;  for  now  I  cannot  be  said  to  betray 
her. 

Mons.     That's  all  one,  so  we  reach  our  objects  ;    forth,  I   195 
beseech  thee. 


38  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  III 

Pero.     To  tell  you  truth,  my  lord,  I  have  made  a  strange 
k  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  wall  and  arras  to  her  inmost  chamber)  I  saw  D'Ambois 
and  herself  reading  a.  letter.  205 

Mons.     D'Ambois  ? 

Pero.     Even  he,  my  lord. 

Mons.     Dost  thou  not  dream,  wench  ? 

Pero.     I  swear  he  is  the  man. 

Mons.  [Aside]  The  devil  he  is,  and  thy  lady  his  dam  !  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 !  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.  * 

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  neglects  her,  as  she  takes  230 
it,  and  is  therefore  suspicious  that  either  your  lady,  or  the 
Lady  Beaupre,  hath  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  swelling  a  spirit,  and  is  so  cold  of  her 
kindness. 

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

Mons.  Indeed,  that's  the  way  to  make  ye  right  open-arses. 
But,  alas,  ye  have  no  portions  fit  for  such  husbands  as  we 
wish  you. 

Pero.     Portions,  my  lord  ?   yes,  and  such  portions  as  your  250 
principality  cannot  purchase. 

Mons.     What,  woman  !    what  are  those  portions  ? 

Pero.     Riddle  my  riddle,  my  lord. 

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

Pero.     You  shall,  my  lord. 

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

That  when  you  sow,  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  'tis  farthest  off,  'tis  nearest? 

Mons.     Is  this  your  great  portion  ? 

Pero.     Even  this,  my  lord. 

Mons.     Believe  me,  I  cannot  riddle  it.  265 

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

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

Pero.  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  off  ;  and  so  we  leave  you 
to  our  mercies.  Exeunt  Women 

Mons.     Farewell,  riddle !  275 

Guise.     Farewell,  medlar! 

Mont.     Farewell,  winter  plum  ! 

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

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


40  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  III 

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

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

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

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

Mont.     That's  not  worth  the  answering.     'Tis  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  standing  fogs, 
Where  never  day  shines,  nothing  ever  grows, 
But  weeds  and  poisons  that  no  statesman  knows  ; 
Not  Cerberus  ever  saw  the  damned  nooks 

Hid  with  the  veils  of  women's  virtuous  looks.  305 

But  what  a  cloud  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  make  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 

With  the  fell  tiger,  up  in  darkness  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  Maffe 
Maf.  My  lord  ? 

Mons.  Go  call  the  Count  Montsurry, 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  41 

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

Maf.  Well,  my  lord.  Exiturus 

Mons.  Or  else 

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

Maf.     You'll  speak  with  none  but  with  the  Count  Mont- 
surry  ? 

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  Montsurry  ? 

Mons.  Ay,  and  Count  Montsurry. 

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- 

Mows.     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— 

Mons.     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 

Mons.     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 ! 

Maf.  I  go,  my  lord. 

[Aside.]  I  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 — 
D'Ambois,  my  lord,  shall  know — 

Mons.  The  devil  and  D'Ambois  ! 

Exit  Maffe 


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  clear  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  with  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  Maffe  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. 

Mows.  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 ! 
How  now,  what  leap'st  thou  at  ? 

Bus.  O  royal  object ! 

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  crown 

Impale  the  forehead  of  the  great  King  Monsieur  ?  380 

Mons.     Oh,  fie  upon  thee  ! 

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  !    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  payment       390 
On  thy  part  made  with  personal  appearance. 
Thy  absence  so  long  suffer'd  oftentimes 
Put  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.     Still  in  that  discord,  and  ill-taken  note  ? 
How  most  unseasonable  thou  playest  the  cuckoo, 
In  this  thy  fall  of  friendship  ! 

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  ! 

Bus.     Why,    this    swims    quite  against    the    stream    of 

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  affect  it  in  such  serious  terms,  415 

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

Mons.     A  bargain,  of  mine  honour  !  And  make  this, 
That  prove  we  in  our  full  dissection  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  [Acr  HI 

Hackster  to  any  whore,  slave  to  a  Jew, 
Or  English  usurer,  to  force  possessions 

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

Or  thou  wouldst  tire  thee  like  a  tinker's  strumpet, 
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  anything,  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,  i  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  yours,  I'll  lay 
This  poor  stillado  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  rnurthering  piece,  making  lanes  in  armies, 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  45 

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

If  you  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  your  voice  475 

Is  like  an  eastern  wind,  that,  where  it  flies, 

Knits  nets  of  caterpillars,  with  which  you  catch 

The  prime  of  all  the  fruits  the  kingdom  yields 

That  your  political  head  is  the  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 :    A 

That  your  foul  body  is  a  Lernean  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  495 

Ever  remember),  that  of  all  my  height 

And  dearest  life  you  are  the  only  spring, 

Only  in  royal  hope  to  kill  the  King,    -jp! 

Mons.     Why,  now  I  see  thou  lovest  me  ;  come*  to  the  ban 
quet.  Exeunt 

FINIS    ACTUS   TERTII. 


ACTUS  QUARTI  SCENA  PRIMA 

[A   Room  in  the  Cornt] 

Henry,  Monsieur  with  a  letter,  Guise,  Montsurry,  Bussy, 
Elenor,  Tamyra,  Beaupre,  Pero,  Charlotte,  Annable, 
Pyra,  with  four  Pages. 

Hen.     Ladies,  ye  have  not  done  our  banquet  right, 
Nor  look'd  upon  it  with  those  cheerful  rays 
That  lately  turn'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 
Govern'd  within  them. 

Bus.  Tis  not  like,  my  lord, 

That  men  in  women  rule,  but  contrary  ; 
For  as  the  moon  (of  all  things  God  created) 
Not  only  is  the  most  appropriate  image  10 

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

Are  the  most  perfect  idols  of  the  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  chang'd,  (as  the  King  notes) 
And  either  men  rule  in  them,  or  some  power 
Beyond  their  voluntary  faculty, 
For  nothing  can  recover  their  lost  faces.  25 

Mont.     None  can  be  always  one  :  our  griefs  and  joys 
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  grief's  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  thoughts  ? 


Sc.  i]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  47 

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

Mons.    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  Bussy]  Hark,  sweetheart,  here's  a  bar  set  to 

your  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. 

Mons.  You  would  say  so  60 

If  you  knew  all. 

Tarn.  Knew  all,  my  lord  ?     What  mean  you  ? 

Mons.     All  that  I  know,  madam. 

Tarn.  That  you  know  !  Speak  it. 

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

Hen.  But,  methinks 

Her  courtship  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.  7° 

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. 

Mons.     As  how  ?  As  how  ? 

Bus.  Perhaps  led  with  a  train, 

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

Mons.  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 
(Stretch'd  in  the  arms  of  great  men  and  their  bawds), 


48  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  IV 

Set  close  down  by  you  ;    all  your  stormy  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  prerogatives,  your  shames  and  tortures  ; 

All  daring  heaven,  and  opening  hell  about  you — 

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

Though  ne'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 !  Such  another  spirit 
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 

Organs  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  ^Ether  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  MontsurryJ.    Nay,  they  are  two, 

my  lord. 

Mont.  How's  that  ? 

Mons.  No  more.       120 


Sc.  i]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  49 

Mont.     I  must  have  more,  my  lord. 

Mons.  What,  more  than  two  ? 

Mont.     How  monstrous  is  this  ! 

Mons.  Why  ? 

Mont.  You  make  me  horns! 

Mons.  Not  I,  it  is  a  work  without  my  power  ; 
Married  men's  ensigns  are  not  made  with  fingers  ; 
Of  divine  fabric  they  are,  not  men's  hands  ;  125 

Your  wife,  you  know,  is  a  mere  Cynthia. 
And  she  must  fashion  horns  out  of  her  nature. 

Mont.     But  doth  she  ?  Dare  you  charge  her  ?  Speak,  false 
prince. 

Mons.     I  must  not  speak,  my  lord  ;   but  if  you'll  use 
The  learning  of  a  nobleman,  and  read,  130 

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

Enter  Tamyra,  Pero. 

Mont.     Not  I !    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 — 

Tarn.  What,  my  lord  ? 

Mont.  The  plague  of  Herod 

Feast  in  his  rotten  entrails. 

Tarn.  Will  you  wreak 

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

Mont.         By  him  ? 

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

You  could  all  this  time  be  at  concord  with  him, 
That  still  hath  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 

Till  my  head  be  the  miracle  of  the  world. 

Tarn.     O,  woe  is  me  ! 

She  seems  to  swound 

C.D.W.  E 


50  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acr  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,  you  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  tell  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  horns],  with  his 

fingers.  180 

Tarn.     Oh,  happy  woman  !     Comes  my  stain  from  him  ? 
It  is  my  beauty,  and  that  innocence  proves 
That  slew  Chymaera,  rescued  Peleus 
From  all  the  savage  beasts  in  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 


Sc.  i]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  51 

Of  his  foul  sin  would  empty  in  my  lap  ; 

How  his  guilt  shunn'd  me  !     Sacred  Innocence, 

That  where  thou  fear'st  art  dreadful,  and  his  face  190 

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

Come,  bring  me  to  him  ;  I  will  tell  the  serpent 

Even  to  his  venom'd  teeth  (from  whose  curs'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  being  so  govern'd  by  his  filthy  soul. 

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

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

Tarn.     See  how  he  flies  me  still  !  'Tis  a  foul  heart 
That  fears  his  own  hand.     Good,  my  lord,  make  haste 
To  see  the  dangerous  paper  ;  papers  hold  205 

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

My  nearest  woman  here,  in  all  she  knows  ;  210 

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

And  all  the  ill  which  thou  shouldst  spit  from  thee, 
By  pity  of  the  wound  this  touch  hath  given  me, 
Not  as  thy  mistress  now,  but  a  poor  woman, 
To  death  given  over,  rid  me  of  my  pains  ; 
Pour  on  thy  powder  ;  clear  thy  breast  of  me  :  220 

My  lord  is  only  here  ;  here  speak  thy  worst, 
Thy  best  will  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,  225 
To  break  his  stock  for  nothing  ;  and  an  insolent, 
To  cut  a  Gordian  when  he  could  not  loose  it : 
What  violence  is  this,  to  put  true  fire 
To  a  false  train,  to  blow  up  long-crown'd  peace 
With  sudden  outrage,  and  believe  a  man  230 


52  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acr  IV 

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

Tarn.     No,  I  will  write  (for  I  shall  never  more 
Meet  with  the  fugitive)  where  I  will  d,efy  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 

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  will  rouse  him, 
Driving  him  all  enrag'd  and  foaming  on  us ; 
And  therefore  have  entreated  your  deep  skill 
In  the  command  of  good  aerial  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,  d,o  not  despair. 

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

Tarn.     Away,  deliver  it :  Exit  Pero 

O  may  my  lines, 

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  horrors,  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  Monsieur  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 

Vouchsaf'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,  whate'er  you  see,  50 

And  stir  not,  as  ye  tender  all  our  lives. 

He  puts  on  his  robes 

Occidentalium  legionum  spiritualism  imperator  (magnus 
ille  Behemoth)  veni,  veni,  comitatus  Cum  Astaroth  locotenente 
invicto.  Adjuro  te  per  Stygis  inscrutabilia  arcana,  per  ipsos 
irremeabiles  anfractus  Averni  :  adesto  6  Behemoth,  tu  cui  pervia  55 
sunt  Magnatum  scrinia  ;  veni,  per  Noctis  dx  tenebrarum 
abdita  profundissima  ;  per  labentia  sidera  ;  per  ipsos  motus 
horarum  furtivos,  Hecatesque  altum  silentium  I  Appare  in 
forma,  sf>iritali,  lucente,  splendida  cS-  amabili* 

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

Beh.     What  would  the  holy  Friar  ? 

Friar.  I  would  see    ,,noj       60 

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


54  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  IV 

Beh.     Why  call'dst  thou  me  to  this  accursed  light, 
To  these  light  purposes  ?     I  am  Emperor 
Of  that  inscrutable  darkness  where  are  hid 
All  deepest  truths,  and  secrets  never  seen, 
All  which  I  know,  and  command  legions  70 

Of  knowing  spirits  that  can  do  more  than  these. 
Any  of  this  my  guard  that  circle  me 
In  these  blue  fires,  and  out  of  whose  dim  fumes 
Vast  "murmurs  use  to  break,  and  from  their  sounds 
Articulate  voices,  can  do  ten  parts  more  75 

Than  open  such  slight  truths  as  you  require. 

Friar.     From  the  last  night's  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  will.     Cartophylax,  thou  that  properly 
Hast  in  thy  power  all  papers  so  inscrib'd, 
Glide  through  all  bars  to  it  and  fetch  that  paper. 

Car.     I  will.  A  torch  removes 

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

Tell  me  if  Monsieur  and  the  Count  Montsurry 
Are  yet  encounter'd  ? 

Beh.  Both  them  and  the  Guise 

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'll  show 
thee.  90 

[Re-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  effects  ; 
Yet  shall  you  see  it  and  themselves  :  behold 
They  come  here,  and  the  Earl  now  holds  the  paper. 

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

Bus.     May  we  not  hear  them  ? 

[Friar.]  No,  be  still  and  see. 

Bus.     I  will  go  fetch  the  paper. 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  55 

Friar.  Do  not  stir ;  100 

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  enter'd  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  gasping  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 !     Nay  fie,   lord,   be   not 

daunted  ;  115 

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

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]  Pero  with  a  letter 

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

Montsurry  stabs  Pero  and  exit 


56  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  IV 

Guise.  Alas,  poor  soul  !  135 

Mows.     This  was  cruelly  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  ? 

Pero.     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. 

Exeunt  Montsurry,  Guise 
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.  AIL  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  servant,  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  165 

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'll  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  blood  : 
I'll  bind  his  arm  in  silk,  and  rub  his  flesh, 
To  make  the  vein  swell,  that  his  soul  may  gush 
Into  some  kennel  where  it  longs  to  lie,  180 

And  policy  shall  be  flank 'd  with  policy. 
Yet  shall  the  feeling  centre  where  we  meet 
Groan  with  the  weight  of  my  approaching  feet ; 
I'll  make  th'  inspired  thresholds  of  his  court 
Sweat  with  the  weather  of  my  horrid  steps,  185 

Before  I  enter  ;  yet  will  I  appear 
Like  calm  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  superficies  19° 

Of  the  green  centre  must  not  taste  his  feet ; 
When  hell  is  plow'd  up  with  his  wounding  tracts  ; 
And  all  his  harvest  reap'd  by  hellish  facts.  Exeunt 

FINIS   ACTUS    QUART! 


ACTUS  QUINTI  SCENA  PRIMA 
[A  Room  in  Montsurry's  House] 

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

Tarn.     O,  help  me,  father! 

Friar.  Impious  earl,  forbear. 


58  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [AcrV 

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  your   soul   must  seek       5 
Her  peace,  as  well  as  your  revengeful  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 

You  can  imagine)  without  greater  proofs 
To  sever  your  eternal  bonds  and  hearts  ; 
Much  less  to  touch  her  with  a  bloody  hand  : 
Nor  is  it  manly,  much  less  husbandly, 

To  expiate  any  frailty  in  your  wife  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  suffer 'd  one  offence 
But  to  set  off  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  minister  of  her  love, 
And  through  what  maze  he  serv'd  it,  we  are  friends. 

Friar.     It  is  a  damn'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  distracted  ;  I  am  apt 
To  outrages  that  I  shall  ever  rue  ! 
I  will  not  pass  the  verge  that  bounds  a  Christian, 
Nor  break  the  limits  of  a  man  nor  husband. 

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


Sc.  i]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  59 

Tarn.     Father ! 

Friar.  I   warrant  thee,   my  dearest  daughter, 

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

Mont.     Who  shall  remove  the  mountain  from  my  breast,     45 
Stand  the  opening  furnace  of  my  thoughts, 
And  set  fit  outcries  for  a  soul  in  hell  ? 

Montsurry  turns  a  kty 
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  shall  burst,  and  the  devouring  seas 
Be  drunk  up  in  his  sounds ;  that  my  hot  woes 
(Vented  enough)  I  might  convert  to  vapour, 
Ascending  from  my  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  censure  it 
With  too  strong  arguments)  is  past  your  pardon : 
But  how  the  circumstances  may  excuse  me 
God  knows,  and  your  more  temperate  mind  hereafter  60 

May  let  my  penitent  miseries  make  you  know. 

Mont.     Hereafter  ?    'Tis  a  suppos'd  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 

Enrag'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 ! 
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  sleight, 
Who  never  is  deceiv'd  in  her  deceit. 

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

The  mists  that  hide  the  most  inscrutable  pander 
That  ever  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 


60  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  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  basilisks  drink  their  poison  from  their  eyes, 

And  no  way  there  to  coast  out  to  their  hearts  ; 

Yet  still  they  wander  there,  and  are  not  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  Cythaeron  with  their  beasts. 

Why  write  you  not  ? 

Tarn.  O,  good  my  lord,  forbear 

In  wreak  of  great  faults  to  engender  greater,  95 

And  make  my  love's  corruption  generate  murther. 

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  :  I  IP 

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  arms 
That  have  offended:    bind  me  face  to  face  ;;I5 

To  some  dead  woman,  taken  from  the  cart  j-, 
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 :  120 

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


Sc.  i]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  61 

Last  night  your  pillows  ;    here  my  wretched  arms, 

As  late  the  wished  confines  of  your  life  :  125 

Now  break  them  as  you  please,  and  all  the  bounds 

Of  manhood,  noblesse,  and  religion. 

Mont.     Where  all  these  have  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  must  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  ! 

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  turn'd  to  stone  ;    with  my  heart-blood 
Dissolve  yourself  again,  or  you  will  grow 
Into  the  image  of  all  tyranny. 

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

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

Tarn.  And  yet  I  live. 

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

Torture,  use 

This  other  engine  on  th'  habituate  powers  145 

Of  her  thrice-damn'd  and  whorish  fortitude : 

Enter  Servants  [and  place  Tamyra  on  the  rack] 
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  !  1 50 

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

Ascendit  Friar  with  a  sword  drawn    ,,  .j,|j 

Friar.     What  rape  of  honour  and  religion  !  155 

Oh,  wrack  of  nature  !  Falls  and  dies 

Tarn.  Poor  man  !    Oh,  my  father  ! 


62  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  ^       [Acx  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  ?  160 

Now  is  it  true,  earth  moves,  and  heaven  stands  still ; 

Even  heaven  itself  must  see  and  suffer  ill : 

The  too  huge  bias  of  the  world  hath  sway'd 

Her  back-part  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  discern'd  sophisticate  enough) 

Turns  to  th'  Antipodes  ;    and  all  the  forms 

That  her  illusions  have  impress'd  in  her,  170 

Have  eaten  through  her  back  ;    and  now  all  see, 

How  she  is  riveted  with  hypocrisy. 

Was  this  the  way  ?    Was  he  the  mean  betwixt  you  ? 
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. 

Writes 

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  ;  180 

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  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  Friar  in  the  vault  and 
follows.     She  wraps  herself  in  the  arras. 


Sc.  2]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  63 

[SCENA  SECUNDA 

Another  Room  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  disorder'd  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  like  a  worldly  man 
That  which  doth  oft  succeed,  and  by  th'  events 
Values  the  worth  of  things,  will  think  it  true 
That  Nature  works  at  random,  just  with  you  : 
But  with  as  much  proportion  she  may  make 
A  thing  that  from  the  feet  up  to  the  throat 
Hath  all  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  3° 

On  whom  she  no  such  worthy  part  bestows. 

Mons.     Yet  shall  you  see  it  here  ;    here  will  be  one 
Young,  learned,  valiant,  virtuous,  and  full  mann'd  ; 
One  on  whom  Nature  spent  so  rich  a  hand 
That  with  an  ominous  eye  she  wept  to  see 
So  much  consum'd  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  [Acx  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  puffs  of  blind-born  chance, 

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

Not  so  the  sea  raves  on  the  Lybian  sands, 

Tumbling  her  billows  in  each  others'  neck  ; 

Not  so  the  surges  of  the  Euxine  sea 

(Near  to  the  frosty  pole,  where  free  Bootes 

From  those  dark  deep  waves  turns  his  radiant  team)  50 

Swell,  being  enrag'd,  even  from  their  inmost  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 

[SGENA  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  65 

Umbra.     Note  what  I  want,  dear  son,  and  be  forewarn'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.  Exit 

Bus.     What  dismal  change  is  here  !  The  good  old  Friar 
Is  murther'd,  being  made  known  to  serve  ray  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  these 
Should  be  the  want  he  means,  and  may  supply  me 
With  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  claim 
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  inform'd 
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  chang'd  countenance  headlong  into  clouds ; 
His  forehead  bent,  as  it  would  hide  his  face, 
He  knock'd  his  chin  against  his  darken'd  breast, 
And  struck  a  churlish  silence  through  his  powers.  40 

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

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

Where  men  are  blindest,  open  now  the  heart  5° 

Of  thy  abashed  oracle,  that,  for  fear, 

C.D.W.  F 


66  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  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 

Beh.  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  tell  thee. 

Bus.     Who  lets  thee  ? 

Beh.  Fate. 

Bus.  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.     Y'are  fair-warn'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  obey'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  :  80 

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

[One]  knocks 


Sc.  3]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  67 

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

Enter  Montsurry,  like  the  Friar,  with  a  letter  written  in  blood 

Mont.     Hail  to  my  worthy  son.  85 

Bus.  Oh,  lying  Spirit, 

To  say  the  Friar  was  dead  !    I'll  now  believe 
Nothing  of  all  his  forg'd  predictions. 
My  kind  and  honour'd  father,  well  reviv'd  ! 
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  your  Prince  of  Spirits  may  be  call'd 
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  blood  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,  105 

And  makes  me  apt  t'encounter  Death  and  Hell. 
But  come,  kind  father,  you  fetch  me  to  heaven,  / 
And  to  that  end  your  holy  weed  was  given.  Exeunt 


[SCENA  QUARTA 

.  J;  <•'  p'Ti::-:knol£  oqson  i  I! 

A   Room  in  Montsurry's  House} 

Thunder.     Intrat  Umbra  Friar,  and  discovers  Tamyra 

Umbra.     Up    with    these    stupid    thoughts,    still    loved 

daughter, 
And  strike  away  this  heartless  trance  of  anguish. 


68  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  V 

Be  like  the  sun,  and  labour  in  eclipses  ; 

Look  to  the  end  of  woes :    oh,  can  you  sit 

Mustering  the  horrors  of  your  servant's  slaughter  5 

Before  your  contemplation,  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  ?        10 
When  will  our  human  griefs  be  at  their  height  ? 
Man  is  a  tree  that  hath  no  top  in  cares, 
No  root  in  comforts  ;    all  his  power  to  live 
Is  given  to  no  end,  but  t'have  power  to  grieve. 

Umbra.     It  is  the  misery  of  our  creation,  15 

Your  true  friend, 

Led  by  your  husband,  shadowM  in  my  weed, 
Now  enters  the  dark  vault. 

Tarn.  But,  my  dearest  iather, 

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

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

Exit.     D'Ambois  [appears]  at  the  Gulf 

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

Enter  Monsieur  and  Guise  above. 

•  ,!i-    c<r  J^o-iil 

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      ,[>  o!  F>n 
To  D'Ambois'  reach,  or  look  with  any  odds  30 

His  fight  i'th*  face,  upon  whose  hand  sits  death, 
Whose  sword  hath  wings,  and  every  feather  pierceth  ? 
If  I  scape  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  politic  visitants,  let  them  in, 
Though  entering  like  so  many  moving  armours. 
Fate  is  more  strong  than  arms,  and  sly  than  treason, 
And  I  at  all  parts  buckled  in  my  fate.  4° 


Sc.  4]  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  69 


Why  enter  not  the  cowafd  vfflains  ? 
Bus.     Dare  they  not  come  ? 

Enter  Murtherers  with  [Umbra]  Friar  at  the  other  door 

Tarn.  They  come. 

First  Mut.  f.        Come  all  at  once. 

Umbra.     Back,  coward  murtherers,  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  you  so  firm  ?      [Strikes  him  with  his  sword]    Will  it 

not  enter  here  ?  45 

You  have  a  face  yet.     [Kills  the  first  Murtherer]     So  !  In  thy 

life's  flame 
I  burn  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  blister'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. 
Brave  Earl,  come  forth,  and  keep  your  scandal  in  : 
'Tis  not  our  fault,  if  you  enforce  the  spot  6$ 

Nor  the  wreak  yours,  if  you  perform  it  not. 

Enter  Montsurry,  with  all  the  Murtherers 

Mont.     Cowards,  a  fiend  or  spirit  beat  ye  off  ? 
They  are  your  own  faint  spirits  that  have  forg'd 
The  fearful  shadows  that  your  eyes  deluded  : 
The  fiend  was  in  you  ;    cast  him  out  then,  thus.  7° 


70 '  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  V 

[They  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. 

Umbra.     What  have  ye  done,  slaves  ?   Irreligious  lord  !         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'll  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  to  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 

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

Live  in  despite  of  murther  !    Take  thy  wings 

And  haste  thee  where  the  grey  ey'd  Morn  perfumes  100 

Her  rosy  chariot  with  Sabaean  spices  ! 

Fly,  where  the  Evening  from  th'  Iberian  vales 

Takes  on  her  swarthy  shoulders  Hecate, 

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

The  burning  axletree,  and  those  that  suffer  105 

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  you,  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  still'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 
Weigh'd  in  the  other  ;  and  be  reconcil'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  which  'tis  stain'd. 

In  which  I  writ  the  summons  of  thy  death — 

The  forced  summons — by  this  bleeding  wound, 

By  this  here  in  my  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  ! 

Fate  nor  these  murtherers,  Monsieur  nor  the  Guise, 

Have  any  glory  in  my  death,  but  this, 

This  killing  spectacle,  this  prodigy  : 

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

Pindus  and  Ossa  (hid  in  drifts  of  snow, 

Laid  on  my  heart  and  liver)  from  their  veins 

Melt  like  two  hungry  torrents,  eating  rocks. 

Into  the  ocean  of  aU  human  life, 

And  make  it  bitter,  only  with  my  blood.  14° 

O  frail  condition  of  strength,  valour,  virtue, 

In  me  (like  warning  fire  upon  the  top 

Of  some  steep  beacon,  on  a  steeper  hill) 

Made  to  express  it :    like  a  falling  star 

Silently  glanc'd,  that  like  a  thunderbolt  *45 

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  [Acx  V 

Thy  radiant  forehead  in  the  firmament,  150 

Make  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  plays  on  both  sides  ;    here  and  there,  it  riseth  ; 
No  place,  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  cloak' d  it  privately  and  made  it  common  ; 
Nor  never  honour'd  been  in  blood  or  mind  ; 
Happy  had  I  been  then,  as  others  are 

Of  the  like  licence  ;    I  had  then  been  honoi*rrd  ;  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  all)  I  strike  on  all  offence, 
O  husband  !    Dear  friend  !     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.  I  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  till  these  wounds  (that  never  balm  shall  close  195 

Till  death  hath  enter'd  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 

Mine  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  till  I  be  arriv'd. 

Mont.     I  do  forgive  thee,  and  upon  my  knees, 
With  hands  held  up  to  heaven,  wish  that  mine  honour       205 
Would  suffer  reconcilement  to  my  love  ; 
But  since  it  will  not,  honour  never  serve 
My  love  with  flourishing  object,  till  it  sterve  ! 
And  as  this  taper,  though  it  upwards  look, 
Downwards  must  needs  consume,  so  let  our  love  !  210 

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

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

Conjoin  in  one,  before  thyself  and  me. 

Exeunt  severally 

FINIS   ACTUS   QUINTI    ET    ULTIMI 


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.  10 

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. 
SIR — 

Since  works  of  this  kind  have  been  lately  esteemed 
worthy  the  patronage  of  some  of  our  worthiest  nobles,  I  have 
made  no  doubt  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  Princes  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,  ^legant  ^.ndl  ff* 


sententious  excitation  to  virtue,  and  deflection  from  her  contrary,! 
limbs,  and  limft*  nf  ft"  aoRgSBD  tragedy.    But* 

wfiatsoever  merit  of  your  full  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  sour-browed  worldlings 
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  wejDear  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 


onoiJi    rj 
H 

,fJO*i  .Oil  ^ 


co  Kril  '1L'0*<{  lo 


THE  ACTORS'  NAMES 


Henry,  the  King 

Monsieur,  his  brother 

Guise,  a  Duke 

Renel,  a  Marquess 

Montsurry,  an  Earl 

Baligny,     Lord-Lieutenant     [of 

Cambrai] 

Clermont  d'Ambois 
Maillard,  \ 
Chalon,       >   captains 
Aumale,     J 
Epernon,   | 
Soissons,    J 


Perricot,  an  Usher  [to  Guise] 

[An  Usher  to  the  Countess] 

The  Guard 

Soldiers 

Servants 

Bussy 
Monsieur 

The  ghost[s]  oH    Guise 

Cardinal  Guise 
Chatillon 

The  Countess  of  Cambrai 

Tamyra,  wife  to  Montsurry. 

Charlotte,  wife  to  Baligny 

Riova,  a  servant 


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'  murther  ? 
Murther  made  parallel  with  law  !     Murther  us'd 
To  serve  the  kingdom,  given  by  suit  to  men  5 

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

Ren.     All  things  :  for  as  when  the  high  births  of  kings, 
Deliverances,  and  coronations,  10 

We  celebrate  with  all  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,          V  It/  '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  observ'd 
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. 

C.D.W.  »i  n 


82  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Acx  I 

Bal.     Now  all  is  peace,  no  danger  :    now  what  follows  ? 

I  Idleness  rusts  us,  since  no  virtuous  labour 

(  Ends  ought  rewarded  :    ease,  security, 

Now  all  the  palm  wears  :    we  made  war  before  \l  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 

Stiir'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  turrets  ;    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  all. 

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  flourish' d  ;    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  with. 

Bal.  Yet  now  none  are  wise 

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


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

Such  depress' d  nobles,  followers  of  his, 

As  you,  [yourself],  my  lord,  will  find  a  time 

When  to  revenge  your  wrongs. 

Ren.  I  make  no  doubt:     l"       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  Clermont  d'Ambois,  Bussy's  second  brother, 
Had,  since,  his  apparition  and  excitement 

To  suffer  none  but  his  hand  in  his  wreak,  85 

Which  he  hath  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,  ox> 

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  barricado'd  in  his  house, 

And  arm'd  with  guard  still.  £5 

Ren.  That  means  lay  on  me, 

Which  I  can  strangely  make.     My  last  lands'  sale, 
By  his  great  suit,  stands  now  on  price  with  him, 
And  he,  as  you  know,  passing  covetous, 
With  that  blind  greediness  that  follows  gain, 
Will  cast  no  danger  where  her  sweet  feet  tread.  roo 

Besides,  you  know,  his  lady  by  his  suit, 
(Wooing  as  freshly,  as  when  first  Love  shot 
His  faultless  arrows  from  her  rosy  eyes) 
v  Now  lives  with  him  again,  and  she,  I  know, 
Will  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  revenge, 
Being,  as  you  know,  full  of  her  brother's  fire, 
That  she  imagines  I  neglect  my  vow  ;  no 

Keeps  off  her  kind  embraces,  and  still  asks, 
'  When,  when,  will  this  revenge  come  ?  When  perform'd 
Will  this  dull  vow  be  ?  '  and.  I  vow  to  heaven, 


84  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Acr  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  j 

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  affected  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  possess' d  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  envyTsince  it  cannot  *35 

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  policy  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,  Epernon,  Soissons. 
Monsieur  taking  leave  of  the  King,  [who  then  goes  out] 

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  bp*~ 

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, 
High  places,  offices. 

Mon.  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  believ'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,          "  I  Cj  t'&l7Q 
And  showing  he  hath  learn'd  it  in  his  life, 
Being  thereby  strong  in  his  persuading  others,        f.< 
That  this  ambitious  Guise,  embracing  him,  •  :  -•. 

Is  thought  t'embrace  his  virtues. 

Ep.  Yet  in  some 

His  virtues  are  held  false  for  th'  other's  vices :  175 

V  For  'tis  more  cunning  held,  and  much  more  common, 
To  suspect  truth  than  falsehood :  and  of  both 
Truth  still  fares  worse,  as  hardly  being  believ'd, 
As  'tis  unusual  and  rarely  known. 

Mon.     I'll  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  :    — ^»  ^4^^ 
I'll  try  that  temper  in  him.  [To  Guise  and  Clermont]  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  gave  the  life 
His  manhood  breathes,  spirit,  and  means,  and  lustre. 


86          THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [Acr  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  ? 

Mon.     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  slims    cxj   ! 
Imagin'd  here  in  France  :    speak,  man,  and  let 
Thy  words  be  born  as  naked  as  thy  thoughts :  200 

Oh,  were  brave  Bussy  living  ! 

Cler.  '  Living,'  my  lord  ? 

Mon.     'Tis  true  thou  art  his  brother,  but  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 

Discern'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,  230 

What  turn  I  meant  to  serve  with  you  ? 

Cler.     Even  what  you  please  to  think. 

Mon.  But  what  think'st  thou  ? 

Had  I  no  end  in't,  think'st  ? 

Cler.  I  think  you  had. 

Mon.     When  I  took  in  such  two  as  you  two  were, 
A  ragged  couple  of  decay'd  commanders,  235 

When  a  French  crown  would  plentifully  serve 
To  buy  you  both  to  anything  i'  th'  earth. 

Cler.     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'eternize  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-hill,  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  Jearajd,  th'ast  no  enchanting  wit ; 
Or  were  thy  wit  good,  am  I  therefore  bound 


88  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Acx  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. 

[Mons.]     Or  what  use  else  should  I  design  thee  to  ? 
Perhaps  you'll  answer  me,  to  be  my  pander. 

Cler.     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  born. 

Mon.  Right ! 

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  born,  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 ! 

Exeunt  Monsieur,  Epernon,  Soissons 

Guise.  No  more  ?     Ill  fortune  I  290 

I  would  have  given  a  million  to  have  heard 
His  scoffs  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)  • 
Without  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 
'     (Acquir'd  by  others)  for  their  own  worth's  purchase,  300 

When  many  a  fool  in  both  is  great  sis  they: 
And  who  would  think  they  could  win  with  their  worths 
Wealthy  possessions,  when,  won  to  their  hands, 
They  neither  can  judge  justly  of  their  value, 
Nor  know  their  use  ?  And  therefore  they  are  puff'd  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  Sisyphus,  advancing  of  them  ever,  315 

And  ever  pulling  down),  than  lay  the  cost 
Of  any  sluttish  corner  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  all  their  grave  and  serious  miseries  play'd, 
As  once  they  were  in  Athens  and  old  Rome. 
/      Cler.     Nay^we  must  now  have  nothing  brought  on  stages 
J3ut  puppetry,  and  pied  ridiculous  antics  : 
Men  thither  come  to  laugh,  and  feed  fool-fat,  325 

Check,  at  all  goodness  there,  as  being  prof  an  'd  : 
When,  wheresoever  goodnest  comes,  she  makes    > 
The  place  still  sacred,  though  with  other  feet 
Never  so  much  'tis  scandal'd  and  polluted. 
Le£  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  ?  ._^ 
7      Cler.     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  :  33  5 

'  Is  a  man  proud  of  greatness,  or  of  riches  ? 
Give  me  an  expert  actor,  I'll  show  all 
That  can  within  his  greatest  glory  fall 
Is  a  man  fray'd  with  poverty  and  lowness  ? 


I 
' 


90  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [ACT  I 

Give  me  an  actor,  I'll  show  every  eye  340 

x  What  he  laments  so,  and  so  much  doth  fly, 
I  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, 
1   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  fitted, 

The  spjkjnatiye  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  all  these  presentments 

Were  only  maskeries,  and,  wore  false  faces, 

Or  else  were  simply  vain,  I  take  no  care  ; 

But  still  he  laugh'd,  how  grave  soe'er  they  were. 

Guise.     And  might  right  well,  my  Clermont  ;  and  for  this       375 
y  Virtuous  digression,  we  will  thank  the  scoffs 

Of  vicious  Monsieur.     But  now  for  the  main  point 

Of  your  late  resolution  for  revenge 

Of  your  slain  [brother.]     J?>  * 

Cler.  I  have  here  my  challenge, 

Which  I  will  pray  my  brother  Baligny  380 

To  bear  the  murtherous  Earl. 


Sc.  2]      THE  REVENGE   OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOTS          91 


Bal.  I  have  prepar'd 

Means  for  access  to  him  through  all  his  guard. 

Guise.     About  it  then,  my  worthy  Baligny, 
And  bring  us  the  success. 

Bal.  I  will,  my  Lord.  Exeunt 


[SCENA  SECUNDA 

A  Room  in  Montsurry's  House] 
Tamyra  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  jo 

Earth,  mov'd  with  pity,  yielded  and  embrac'd 
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  keep'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  20 

That  can  be,  wrested  from  thy  rival's  arms, 
O  my  dear,£ussy,  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 

Mont.     Still  on  this  haunt  ?     Still  shall  adulterous  blood     25 
Affect  thy  spirits  ?     Think,  for  shame,  but  this, 
This  blood  that  cockatrice-like  thus  thou  brood'st 
Too  dry  is  to  breed  any  quench  to  thine. 
And  therefore  now  (if  only  for  thy  lust 


92  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [Acx  I 

A  little  cover'd  with  a  veil  of  shame)  30 

Look  out  for  fresh  life,  rather  than  witchlike 

Learn  to  kiss  horror,  and  with  death  engender. 

Strange  cross  in  nature,  purest  virgin  shame 

Lies  in  the  blood,  as  lust  lies ;    and  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  meets 

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  and  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  true 

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,        '  Jv;, 

Teach  that  no  lines  nor  superficies  £'J3 

Do  move  themselves,  but  still  accompany      jppj  55 

The  motions  of  their  bodies ;    so  poor  wives  ^gj"] 
Must  not  pursue,  nor  have  their  own  affections; 
But  to  their  husbands'  earnests,  and  their  jests, 
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  rule  me. 

Tarn.     So  said  you,  when  you  woo'd.     So  soldiers  tortur'd 
With  tedious  sieges  of  some  well-wall'd  town 
Propound  conditions  of  most  large  contents,  65 

Freedom  of  laws,  all  former  government ; 
But  having  once  set  foot  within  the  walls, 
And  got  the  reins  of  power  into  their  hands, 
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  wife's  part  yet, 


Sc.  2]      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  93 

With  all  my  love  before  I  swear  forgiveness. 

Tarn.     Forgiveness  !    That  grace  you  should  seek  of  me  : 
These  tortur'd  fingers  and  these  stabb'd-through  arms  75 

Keep  that  law  in  their  wounds  yet,  unobserv'd, 
And  ever  shall. 

Mont.  Remember  their  deserts. 

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)  charg'd  him  with  still   beams, 
Quiet  and  fervent,  and  therein  was  constant, 
Which  made  him  cast  off  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  calm  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  a  Soldier 

Sold.    My  lord  ! 

Mont.  How  now  ?    Would  any  speak  with  me  ? 

Sold.     Ay,  sir. 

Mont.  Perverse  and  traitorous  miscreant, 

Where  are  your  other  fellows  of  my  guard  ? 
Have  I  not  told  you  I  will  speak  with  none 
But  Lord  Renel  ? 

Sold.  And  'tis  he  that  stays  you.  100 

Mont.     O,  is  it  he  ?     'Tis  well ;    attend  him  in  : 
I  must  be  vigilant ;    the  Furies  haunt  me. 
Do  you  hear,  dame  ? 

"  .  Enter  Renel  with  the  Soldier 

Ren.     [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    [Acx  I 

And  therefore  serve  it;    call  out  of  the  way.  "i  v'rti  l\a 
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  fail,  my  lord. 

Exit  Soldier  :   j  ;, 

Ren.  God  save  your  lordship ! 

Mont.     My  noblest  Lord  Renel,  past  all  men  welcome  ! 
Wife,  welcome  his  lordship. 

Osculatur 

Ren.  I  much  joy  115 

In  your  return  here. 

Tarn.  You  do  more  than  I. 

Mont.     She's  passionate  still,  to  think  we  ever  parted, 
By  my  too  stern  injurious  jealousy. 

Ren.     'Tis  well  your  lordship  will  confess  your  error 
In  so  good  time  yet. 

. ;  1      • !  •       i  .-  ' 
Enter  Baligny  with  a  challenge     , , , ; , 

Mont.  Death !     Who  have  we  here  ?  120 

Ho  !    Guard  !  Villains  ! 

Bal.  Why  exclaim  you  so  ? 

Mont.     Negligent  traitors  !     Murther,  murther,  murther  ! 

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 

Bal.     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. 

Bal.     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. 

Bal.     This  is  my  purpose,  sir  ;    from  Clermont  d'Ambois 
I  bring  this  challenge. 

Mont.  Challenge  !    I'll  touch  none. 

Bal.     I'll  leave  it  here  then. 

Ren.  Thou  shalt  leave  thy  life  first.   135 


Sc.  2]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  95 

Mont.     Murther,  murther ! 

Ren.  Retire,  my  lord  ;    get  off. 

[To  Baligny]     Hold,  or  thy  death  shall  hold  thee. — Hence, 

my  lord  ! 

Bal.     There  lie  the  challenge, 
y  They  all  fight,  and  Baligny  drives  in  Montsurry . 

Exit  Montsurry 

Ren.  Was  not  this  well  handled  ? 

Bal.     Nobly,  my  lord.     All  thanks  ! 

Exit  Baligny 
Tarn.  I'll  make  him  read  it 

Exit  Tamyra 

Ren.     This  was  a  sleight  well  mask'd.     O,  what  is  man,         140 
Unless  he  be  a  jgolitician  !  Exit 

FINIS    ACTUS    PRIMI 

..;: •-.!    ;..:•»  -in   •;    -;i    :h 

!  •  .' 

ACTUS    SECUNDI  SCENA  PRIMA 

[A  Room  in  the  Court] 

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  policy,  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  ask  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  will  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  discern'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, 
"  Treachery  for  kings  is  truest  loyalty  ; 
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  ir»  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  : 


Sc.  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  H  ighness  f  > 

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 
I'll  not  forget ;    haste  to  thy  government, 
And  carry  D'Ambois  with  thee.     So  farewell !  Exit 

Bal.     Your  Majesty  fare  ever  like  itself.  75 

Enter  Guise 

Guise.     My  sure  friend  Baligny  ! 

Bal.  Noblest  of  princes  ! 

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  Clermont  is  my  love  ;  80 

France  never  bred  a  nobler  gentleman 
For  all  parts  ;   he  exceeds  his  brother  Bussy. 

Bal.     Ay,  my  lord  ? 

Guise.  Far  ;   because,  besides  his  valour, 

He  hath  the  crown  of  man,  and  all  his  parts, 
Which  Jearning^  is  ;   and  that  so  true  and  virtuous 
That  it  gives  power  to  do  as  well  as  say 
Whatever  fits  a  most  accomplish'd  man  ; 

Which   Bnssyr   fnr  M«  jTJJlmiT*!  flagon! 

And  so  was  rapt  with  outrage  oftentimes 
^yoncTdecofumT^  wnere  thisTabBolnte  Clermonl 
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,  learn'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  knowledge) 

C.D.W.  H 


98  THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  II 

Of  taste  so  much  deprav'd,  that  they  had  rather 

Delight,  and  satisfy  themselves  to  drink  100 

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  Jiujphorbus  was  105 

After  Pythagoras;    so  is  Brutus,  Clefmont. 

And,  were  not  Brutus  a  conspirator — 

Bal.     '  Conspirator,'  my  lord  ?     Doth  that  impair  him  ? 
Caesar  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 
'Twixt  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  with  the  King, 
With  all  your  service  ;    only,  if  I  send, 
Respect  me  as  your  friend,  and  love  my  Clermont. 

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^x^ov  8t  ira.vr^, 

So  no  authority  should  suffer  censure  &c.    Impossible 

But  by  a  man  of  more  authority.  **  vi™  cognosce™ 


Sc.  i].     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS          99 

Great  vessels  into  less  are  emptied  never,         mcntem   ac  wo/ 
There's  a  redundance  past  their  continent  ever.  "****""•  prius-  140 
„.  quant  in  Magis. 

These  virtuosi  are  the  poorest  creatures  ;         tratibus  apparet. 
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,  j^ 

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  challenge  be  received  ; 
He  would  not  touch,  nor  see  it. 

Cler.  Possible ! 

How  did  you  then  ? 

Bal.  Left  it  in  his  despite.  i^o 

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  rcr 

Hung  up  for  signs,  are  lions.     Who  knows  not        QUO  ^i,-^ 
That  lions  the  more  soft  kept,  are  more  servile  ?    degunt,  eo 
And  look  how  lions  close  kept,  fed  by  hand,  servilius. 

Lose  quite  th'  innative  fire  of  spirit  and  greatness  EPict- 
That  lions  free  breathe,  foraging  for  prey,  160 

And  grow  so  gross  that  mastiffs,  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  bu-t  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. 

Bal.     'Tis  base,  tis  base  !    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  great-spleen'd  camels. 


J 


ioo         THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS  [Acx  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,  180 

And  bore  their  heads  much  lower  for  their  horns.     Simile. 

fAs  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  royal,  185 

Or  parchment  rul'd  with  lead,  smooth'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  :  i^o 

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  starv'd  of  mind.  195 

Bal.     That  makes  their  bodies  fat.     I  fain  would  know 
How  many  millions  of  our  other  nobles 
Would  make  one  Guise.     There  is  a  true  tenth  Worthy, 
Who,  did  not  one  act  only  blemish  him — 

Cler .     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   you 

name 
Suppos'd  his  stain,  that  I'll  not  prove  his  lustre  ? 

Bal.     To  satisfy  you,  'twas  the  Massacre. 

Cler.     Th^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. 

'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 


Sc.  i]        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS       101 

And  all  the  laws  of  hospitality  ?  215 

This  is  the  beastly  slaughter  made  of  men, 
When  truth  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  ? 

Cler.  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  nourish'd  Romulus 
More  human  than  the  men  that  did  expose  him  ?  225 

Bal.     That  makes  against  you. 

Cler.  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) 

^Jhe  Iliads  and  Odysseys  had  been  lost :      

>/Had  faith  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  intend.  A 

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  command  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  you  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  [Acx  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. 

Cler.     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,  265 

That  quite  the  earth  he  leaves,  and  up  he  leaps 
On  Atlas'  shoulders,  and  from  thence  looks  down, 
Viewing  how  far  off  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     '  CTUS    SECUNDI 


ACTUS  TERTII  SCENA  PRIMA 
[A  Field  near  Cambrai] 

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. 

Chal.  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. 

Chal.     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.     OJ&erv'd  ye  not  ?  20 

Again  peruse  the  letters.     Both  you  are 
Made  my  assistants,  and  have  right  and  trust 
In  all  the  weighty  secrets  like  myself. 

Aum.     'Tis  strange  a  man  that  had,  through  his  life  past, 
So  sure  a  foot  in  virtue  and  true  knowledge  -  25 

As  Clermont  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    [Acx  III 

Unless  it  be  mine  own  wife,  or  my  friend's.  50 

I  may  make  bold  with  him. 

A um.  'Tis  safe  and  common. 

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  beat 

Chal.  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. 

Chal.     We  must  bethink  us,  ere  we  apprehend  him, 
(Besides  our  main  strength)  of  some  stratagem 
To  make  good  our  severe  command  on  him,  65 

As  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  will  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  close  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 

(I  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  corner,  street,  the  Court ; 


Sc.  i]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         105 

Whose  faction  'tis  you  know,  and  who  is  held  90 

The  fautor's  right  hand  ;  how  high  his  aims  reach 
Nought  but  a  crown  can  measure.  This  must  fall 
Past  shadows'  weights,  and  is  most  capital. 

Chal.     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  too 

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. 

Exeunt        -~  ' 

[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 

From  Court,  my  lord,  than  I  :    and  since  news  there  5 

Is  every  day  increasing  with  th'  arlairs, 
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,  10 

And  wear  your  time  and  wits  in  those  discourses. 

Cler.     The  Locrian  Princes  therefore  were  brave  rulers ; 
For  whosoever  there  came  new  from  country 
And  in  the  city  ask'd  '  What  news  ?  '  was  punish'd  ; 
Since  commonly  such  brains  are  most  delighted  15 

With  innovations,  gossips'  tales,  and  mischiefs  : 
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    [Acx  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  !     Honour  never 
Should  be  esteem' d  with  wise  men,  as  the  price  30 

And  \alue  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  ? 
r    Cler.  'Tis  their  fault. 

^    -\tVe  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  therefore  little  pomp  in  men  most  great  55 

Makes  mightily  and  strongly  to  the  guard 
Of  what  they  win  by  chance  or  just  reward. 
Great  and  immodest  braveries  again, 
Like  statues  much  too  high  made  for  their  bases, 
Are  overturn'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,  deliver'd  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.     [Reads] 

Char.     What  news  ? 

Cler.  Strange  ones,  and  fit  for  a  novation  ; 

Weighty,  unheard  of,  mischievous  enough. 

Ren.     Heaven  shield  !  What  are  they  ? 

Cler.  Read  them,  good  my  lord.     70 

Ren.    [reads]     '  You    are    betray'd    into    this   country.' 
Monstrous  ! 

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 
charge  from  the  King  to  apprehend  you.' 

Char.     To  apprehend  him  ? 

Ren.     '  Tour  brother  absents  himself  of  purpose.' 

Cler.     That's  a  sound  one  ! 

Char.     That's  a  lie  ! 

Ren.  '  Get  on  your  Scotch  horse,  and  retire  to  your 
strength  ;  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. 

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, 
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 
To  wreak  a  murther  done  so  like  a  villain  :  y 

Cler.     Shall  we  revenge  a  villany  with  villany  ? 

Char.     Is  it  not  equal  ? 


75 


So 


io8    THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'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 

Approv'd  by  reason  can  be  cowardice.  100 

Char.    Dispute,  when  you  should  fight !    Wrong,  wreakless 

sleeping, 

Makes  men  die  honourless  ;    one  borne,  another 
Leaps  on  our  shoulders. 

Cler .  We  must  wreak  oirr  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  ever 

(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  all  ill,  not  to  be  wreak' d  with  good  : 
i  Do  ill  for  no  ill;    never  private  cause  115 

Should  take  on  it  the  part  of  public  laws. 

Char.     A  D'Ambois  bear  in  wrong  so  tame  a  spirit  ! 

Ren.     Madam,  be  sure  there  will  be  time  enough 
For  all  the  vengeance  your  great  spirit  can  wish. 
The  course  yet  taken  is  allow'd  by  all,  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 
Shall  not  exempt  him.     Therefore   give  him  breath;  125 

Sure  death  delay 'd  is  a  redoubled  death. 

Cler.     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,  135 

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.  140 

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,  145 

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  dull  and  drossy  in  performing 
Wreak  of  the  dear  blood  of  my  matchless  brother,  150 

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.  155 

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.  160 

Cler.     Sweet  sister,  far  be  both  off  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  165 

To  all  you  bungling,  foggy-spirited  men  ; 
But  for  our  birthright's  honour,  do  not  mention 
One  syllable  of  any  word  may  go 
To  the  begetting  of  an  act  so  tender 
And  full  of  sulphur  as  this  letter's  truth ;  170 

A  * 

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. 


no     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [Acx  III 

Ren.  Most  gladly,  worthiest  lady.  175 

Exeunt  Charlotte  and  Renel 

Enter  a  Messenger 

Mes.     Sir,  my  Lord  Governor's  Lieutenant  prays 
Access  to  you. 

Cler.  Himself  alone  ? 

Mes.  Alone,  sir. 

Cler.     Attend  him  in.     Exit  Messenger 

Now  comes  this  plot  to  trial. 
I  shall  discern  (if  it  be  true  as  rare) 

Some  sparks  will  fly  from  his  dissembling  eyes.  180 

I'll  sound  his  depth. 

Enter  Maillard  with  the  Messenger 

Mail.  Honour,  and  all  things  noble  ! 

Cler.     As  much  to  you,  good  Captain.     What's  th'  affair  ? 

Mail.     Sir,  the  poor  honour  we  can  add  to  all 
Your  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. 

Cler.     And  must  they  take  me  ? 

Mail.  Take  you,  sir  ?     O,  heaven  !  {turning  away} 

Mes.     [Aside  to  Clermont}     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 
From  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      in 

Cler.     Acts  that  are  done  by  kings  are  not  ask'd  why.    205 
I'll  not  dispute  the  case,  but  I  will  search  you. 

Mail.  Search  me  ?    For  what  ? 

Cler.  For  letters. 

Mail.  I  beseech  you, 

Do  not  admit  one  thought  of  such  a  shame 
To  a  commander. 

Cler.  Go  to  !  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  !  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'll  nothing  fin(J 

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.     I  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 

I'll  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. 

Cler,     Your  faith  to  me  ? 


H2      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [Acx  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.'  [Exit] 

[SCENA  TERTIA 
In  the  Camp] 

Enter  Chalon  with  two  Soldiers 

Chal.     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. 

Chal.  'Tis  true ;  5 

You  two  must  do,  or  enter,  what  our  army 
Is  now  in  field  for. 

2nd  Sold.  I  see  then  our  guerdon 

Must  be  the  deed  itself,  'twill  be  such  honour. 

Chal.     What  fight  soldiers  most  for  ? 

ist  Sold.  Honour  only. 

Chal.     Yet  here  are  crowns  beside. 

Ambo.  We  thank  you,  captain.     10 

2nd  Sold.     Now,  sir,  how  show  we  ? 

Chal.  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  shall  join  :   and  that  t'attend  him  hither,  15 

Like  one  we  so  much  honour,  we  have  sent  him — 

is*  Sold.     Us  two  in  person. 

Chal.  Well,  sir,  say  it  so ; 

And  having  brought  him  to  the  field,  when  I 
Fall  in  with  him,  saluting,  get  you  both 

Of  one  side  of  his  horse,  and  pluck  him  down,  20 

And  I  with  the  ambush  laid  will  second  you. 

ist  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. 

Chal.     'Tis  well  said,  worthy  soldiers  ;  haste,  and  haste  him.    25 

[Exeunt] 


[SCENA  QUARTA 
A  Room  in  the  Castle] 

Enter  Clermont,  Maillard  close  following  him 

Cler.  [To  himself].     My  Scotch  horse  to  their  army — 

Mail.  Please  you,  sir  ? 

Cler.  'Sdeath,  you're  passing  diligent ! 

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 ;  I'll  come  ;  my  hand. 

Mail.     Your  hand,  sir  !     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 


H4      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS    [Acx  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  the  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  will  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  birth,  or  means,  or  knowledge  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  jl       55 

Anything  common  ;    you  can  never  find  //  .,• 

Things'  outward  care,  but  you  neglect  your  mind. 


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  -f  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  that's  fit, 

And  so  resisting  th'  All,  is  crush'd  with  it.  65 

But  he,  that  knowing  how  divine  a  frame 
The  whole  world  is  ;    and  of  it  all,  can  name 
(Without  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 

irs  not  so  cursed  and  so  damn'd  a  birth.  75 

ten.     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. 

Cler.  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 
Rare  and  most  absolute  ;    he  had  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  learn 'd,  and  liberal  as  the  sun, 


n6     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [Acx  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, 

Refus'd  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  offer  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,  120 

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  thriftless. 
^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  of  all  ?  Twelve  rods  before  thee  ; 


Sc.  4]          THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS      117 

Three  or  four  times  sit  for  the  whole  tribunal ; 

Exhibit  Circene  games  ;    make  public  feasts  ;  135 

And  for  these  idle  outward  things  (says  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. 

Ren.  Heaven  forbid  !  I 

And  all  with  honour  your  arrival  speed  !  Exit 

Enter  Messenger  with  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  ? 

is*  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  honour'd  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. 

f  Cler.     Chance  what  can  chance  me,  well  or  ill  is  equal 
(  In  my  acceptance,  since  I  joy  in  neither,  160 

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,  J 

Far  past  the  reach  of  any  die  she  throws.  165 

Exit  cum  Pedisequis 

FINIS   ACTUS    TERTII 


u8     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [ACT  IV 

ACTUS  QUARTI  SCENA  PRIMA 

[A  Field  near  Cambrai] 
Alarum  within  :    excursions  over  the  Stage 

The  [Soldiers  disguised  like']  Lackeys  running,  Maillard  following 

them 

Mail.     Villains,  not  hold  him  when  ye  had  him  down  ! 
is/  Lackey.     Who  can  hold  lightning  ?     'Sdeath,  a  man  as 

well 

Might  catch  a  cannon-bullet  in  his  mouth, 
And  spit  it  in  your  hands,  as  take  and  hold  him. 

Mail.     Pursue,  enclose  him  !  Stand  or  fall  on  him,  5 

And  ye  may  take  him.     'Sdeath,  they  make  him  guards  ! 

Exit  [with  the  Lackeys] 

Alarum  still,  and  enter  Chalon  [with  two  Soldiers] 

Chal.     Stand,    cowards,     stand,    strike,    send    your 

bullets  at  him  ! 

1st  Sold.     We  came  to  entertain  him,  sir,  for  honour. 
2nd  Sold.     Did  ye  not  say  so  ? 

Chal.  Slaves,  he  is  a  traitor  ! 

Command  the  horse  troops  to  over-run  the  traitor.  10 

Exeunt 

Shouts  within.     Alarum  still,  and  chambers  shot  off.     Then 
enter  Aumale 

Aum.     What  spirit  breathes  thus  in  this  more  than  man, 
Turns  flesh  to  air  possess'd,  and  in  a  storm 
Tears  men  about  the  field  like  autumn  leaves  ? 
He  turn'd  wild  lightning  in  the  lackeys'  hands, 
Who,  though  their  sudden  violent  twitch  unhors'd  him,          15 
Yet  when  he  bore  himself,  their  saucy  fingers 
Flew  as  too  hot  off,  as  he  had  been  fire. 
The  ambush  then  made  in,  through  all  whose  force, 
He  drave  as  if  a  fierce  and  fire-given  cannon 
Had  spit  his  iron  vomit  out  amongst  them.  20 

The  battles  then  in  two  half-moons  enclos'd  him, 
In  which  he  show'd  as  if  he  were  the  light, 
And  they  but  earth,  who  wond'ring  what  he  was, 
Shrunk  their  steel  horns,  and  gave  him  glorious  pass : 


Sc.  i]      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  far,  and  that  with  weight  oppress' d, 

(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  !  40 

Enter    Maillard,    Chalon    leading    Clermont,    Captains    and 
Soldiers  following 

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  fault  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 
Differ  extremely,  as,  for  flat  example, 
When  politic  widows  try  men  for  their  turn,  60 


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  unmarried  :  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  born,  80 

Use  ye  t' assault  such  men  as  I  with  lackeys  ? 

Chal.     They  are  no  lackeys,  sir,  but  soldiers 
Disguis'd  in  lackeys'  coats. 

ist  Sold.  Sir,  we  have  seen  the  enemy. 

Cler.     Avaunt,  ye  rascals  !  Hence  ! 

Mail.  Now  leave  your  coats. 

Cler.     Let  me  not  see  them  more.  85 

Aum.     I    grieve  that  virtue  lives  so  undistinguished 
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  all,  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'4  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         121 

Perceiving  me  great  with  the  worthy  Guise, 

And  he  (I  know  not  why)  held  dangerous, 

Made  me  the  desperate  organ  of  his  danger, 

Only  with  that  poor  colour  :    'tis  the  common  100 

And  more  than  whore-like  trick  of  treachery 

And  vermin  bred  to  rapine  and  to  ruin  : 

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. 

Cler.     It  shall  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  ill. 

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,  believe  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  far  from  all  your  aims  135 


122     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [Acx  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  (hi  all  things  fit)  140 

One  with  that  All,  and  go  on  round  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  cheek  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  world  at  all  parts  adorn, 

And  appertains  to  one  celestial  born.  Exeunt  omnes 

[SCENA  SECUNDA 
A  Room  in  the  Court] 
Enter  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  filler  of  it ! 

Ren.  I  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  beastly.       10 

Ren.     '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  doth  like  a  dog  appear, 

So  like  a  friend  is  an  adulterer  : 

Voluptuaries,  and  these  belly-gods,  15 

No  more  true  men  are  than  so  many  toads. 

A  good  man  happy,  is  a  common  good  ; 

Vile  men  advanc'd  live  of  the  common  blood. 

Bal.     Give  and  then  take,  like  children  ! 

Ren.  Bounties  are 

As  soon  repented  as  they  happen  rare.  20 

Bal.     What  should  kings  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  passionate  ? 

Ren.  So  wild,  so  mad, 

She  cannot  live,  and  this  unwreak'd  sustain.  35 

The  woes  are  bloody  that  in  women  reign. 
The  Sicile  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.    Exeunt 


[SCENA  TERTIA 

A  Room  in  the  House  of  the  Countess  of  Cambrai]. 
Enter  Countess,  Riova,  and  an  Usher 

Ush.    Madam,  a  captain  come  from  Clennont  d'Ambois 
Desires  access  to  you. 


124     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS      [Acx  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  ! 

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  it !     If  you  serve         1 5 
His  kind  desires,  I  will  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  !     Without  that,  health  is  nothing. 
Why  live  I,  but  to  ask,  in  doubt  of  that, 
Is  that  bereft  him  ? 

Aum.  You'll  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  letters  from  the  King 
To  train  him  to  the  musters,  and  betray  him    ..;A 
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  !  How  are  my  hopes  prevented  ! 
O  my  most  faithful  servant,  thou  betray'd  !  40 

Will  kings  make  treason  lawful  ?     Is  society 
To  keep  which  only  kings  were  first  ordain'd) 

s  broke  in  breaking  faith  'twixt  friend  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  like  them, 
"ull  in  all  right,  in  nought  superfluous, 
Nor  nothing  straining  past  right  for  their  right  : 
Reign  justly  and  reign  safely.     Policy 

s  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  fall,  when  only  'tis  the  strength, 
Straight  shooting,  compass,  given  it  by  the  archer, 
That  makes  it  hit  or  miss  ;    and  doing  either, 
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  t'  obey  them  in  the  like  ; 
Not  shoot  them  forth  with  faulty  aim  and  strength,  65 

And  lay  the  fault  in  them  for  flying  amiss. 

Aum.     But,  for  your  servant,  I  dare  swear  him  guiltless. 

Count.     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 

Maillard  an  hundred  slashes  with  a  sword,  75 

Chalon  an  hundred  breaches  with  a  pistol. 
They  could  not  all  have  taken  Clermont  d'Ambois 
Without  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  is  apt  to  break ; 

Hate  like  hell-mouth  who  think  not  what  they  speak. 

Aum.     Well,  madam,  I  must  tender  my  attendance 
On  him  again.     WilTt  please  you  to  return  85 

No  service  to  him  by  me  ? 

Count.  Fetch  me  straight 

My  little  cabinet.     (Exit  Ancilla)     'Tis  little,  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  kill  him  :  comfort  you  100 

With  full  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,   Epernon,  Soissons,  Perricot  with 
pen,  ink,  and  paper 

Guise.     Now,  sir,  I  hope  your  much  abus'd  eyes  see, 
In  my  word  for  my  Clermont,  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, 

Colour'd  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  unwearied  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  shun  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 
Offers  itself  to  him ;    his  sweet  disposure, 
As  much  abhorring  to  behold  as  do  :ow  * 

Any  unnatural  and  bloody  action  ; 

His  just  contempt  of  jesters,  parasites,  40 

r— 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      [Acx  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 ! 

Hen.     Go,  take  my  letters  for  him,  and  release  him.  55 

Omnes.     Thanks  to  your  Highness  !  Ever  live  your  High 
ness  !  Exeunt  [all  but  Baligny] 
^      Bal.     Better  a  man  were  buried  quick,  than  live 
A  property  for  state,  and  spoil  to  thrive  Exit 

r 

[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  differ  in  acceptance 
Of  either  fortune  ? 

Chal.  What,  love  bad  like  good  ! 

How  should  one  learn  that  ? 

Cler.  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. 

Cler.  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, 
But  his  free  power  in  well  disposing  them. 

Chal.     Pretty,  from  toys  ! 

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. 

Chal.     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  affections  so 
We  let  in  nought  to  make  them  overflow. 
And  as  of  Homer's  verses  many  critics 
On  those  stand,  of  which  Time's  old  moth  hath  eaten 
The  first  or  last  feet,  and  the  perfect  parts  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  affect ; 

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. 

Chal.     I  long  to  hear,  sir,  how  your  mistress  takes  this. 

Enter  Aumale  with  a  cabinet 

Mail.     We  soon  shall  know  it ;  see  Aumale  retura'd  50 

Aum.     Ease  to  your  bands,  sir ! 

Cler .  Welcome,  worthy  friend  ! 

Chal.     How  took  his  noblest  mistress  your  sad  message  ? 

Aum.     As  great  rich  men  take  sudden  poverty. 
I  never  witness' d  a  more  noble  love, 

Nor  a  more  ruthful  sorrow  :    I  well  wish'd  55 

Some  other  had  been  master  of  my  message. 

C.D.W.  v 


130       THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [Acx  IV 

Mail.     Y'.-are  happy,  sir,  in  all  things,  but  this  one 
Of  your  unhappy  apprehension. 

Cler.     This  is  to  me,  compar'd  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. 

Chal.  O  happy  man  ! 

This  may  enough  hold  to  redeem  your  bands. 

Cler.     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. 

Mail.     Alas,  sir  !  I  usurp  that  style,  enforc'd, 
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  Guise. 
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  woful. 

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.  100 

Ren.     Heaven  shield  the  Guise  from  seconding  that  truth, 
With  what  he  likewise  prophesied  on  him. 

Cler.     It  hath  enough,  'twas  grac'd  with  truth  in  one  ; 
To  th'  other  falsehood  and  confusion  ! 
Lead  to  th'  Court,  sir. 

Bal.  You  I'll  lead  no  more,      105 

It  was  too  ominous  and  foul  before.  Exeunt 

FINIS    ACTUS    gUARTI 


ACTUS   QUINTI  SCENA  PRIMA 
[A  Room  in  the  House  of  Guise] 

Ascendit  Umbra  Busiy 

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  almighty  word  5 

Measures  the  bloody  acts  of  impious  men 
With  equal  penance,  who  in  th'  act  itself 
Includes  th'  infliction,  which  like  chained  shot 
Batter  together  still ;    though  as  the  thunder 
Seems,  by  men's  duller  hearing  than  their  sight,  10 

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  swaying,  20 

Another  th'  other),  all  the  Christian  world 


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  world   (as  which  of  you  denies  ?) 

Stands  by  proportion,  all  may  thence  conclude 

That  all  the  joints  and  nerves  sustaining  nature 

As  well  may  break,  and  yet  the  world  abide,  30 

As  any  one  good  unrewarded  die, 

Or  any  one  ill  scape  his  penalty.        The  Ghost  stands  close 

Enter  Guise,  Clermont 

Guise.     Thus  (friend)  thou  seest  how  all  good  men  would 

thrive, 

Did  not  the  good  thou  prompt'st  me  with  prevent 
The  jealous  ill  pursuing  them  in  others.  35 

But  now  thy  dangers  are  dispatch' d,  note  mine  : 
Hast  thou  not  heard  of  that  admired  voice 
That  at  the  barricadoes  spake  to  me 
(No  person  seen) ,  '  Let'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  waking  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,  which  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 


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. 

Cler.     Let  all  fall  that  would  rise  unlawfully^ 
Make  not  your  forward  spirit  in  virtueTs  right  ""jL/jWH  "/7(j} 
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  religions, 

Which,  within  limits  kept,  may  without  danger  75 

Let  virtue  some  good  from  your  graces  gather. 
Avarice  of  all  is  ever  nothing's  father. 

Umb.  [advancing]     Danger  (the  spur  of  all  great  minds) 

is  ever 

The  curb  to  your  tame  spirits  ;    you  respect  not 
(With  all  your  holiness  of  life  and  learning)  80 

More  than  the  present,  like  illiterate  vulgars  ; 
Your  mind  (you  say)  kept  in  your  flesh's  bounds, 
Shows  that  man's  will  must  rul'd  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  still  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  those  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  1    Use  the  means  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  eyes  to  nothing  ? 


134       THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS     [AcrV 

Cler.  Saw  you  nothing  here  ? 

Guise.     Thou  dream'st  awake  now  ;  what  was  here  to  see  ? 

Cler.     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  perform'd 
In  spirits  ten  parts  more  than  fleshy  men  ; 
To  whose  fore-sights  our  acts  and  thoughts  lie  open  : 
And  therefore,  since  he  saw  the  treachery  115 

Late  practis'd  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  ! — 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  glory  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  see 
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  live  but  those  that  study  rum. 
A  good  man  happy  is  a  common  good  ; 
111  men  advanc'd  live  of  the  common  blood.  .r,jati    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  ; 

Tyrants  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  ! 

Guise.     Welcome,  Aumale ! 

Cler.  My  good  friend,  friendly  welcome  I 

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  vanish'd  with  her  tears. 

Cler.     All  good  forbid  it ! 

Guise.  What  events  are  these  ? 

Cler.     All  must  be  borne,  my  lord  ;    and  yet  this  chance     1 50 
Would  willingly  enforce  a  man  to  cast  off 
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  preferr'd,  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,  17° 

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 

O[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     [Acx  V 

The  too  much  men  devour  abhorring  Nature  ;  180 

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  six  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  burn'd  to  bear 
An  insolence  so  giantly  austere. 

Hen.     The  more  kings  bear  at  subjects'  hands,  the  more  5 

Their  ling' ring  justice  gathers,  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) 


Sc.  2]      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. 

Friends  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. 

Omnes.     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  Room  in  Montsurry's  House} 
Enter  Tamyra  with  a  letter,  Charlotte  in  man's  attire 

Tarn.     I  see  y'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  offer  in  her  service 
To  the  revenge  of  her  renowned  brother.  5 

Tarn.     She  writes  to  me  as  much,  and  much  desires 
That  you  may  be  the  man,  whose  spirit  she  knows 
Will  cut  short  off  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  revenge  her  dead, 


138     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS       [Acx  V 

On  whom  the  dead  impos'd  the  task,  and  he, 

I  know,  will  come  t' effect  it  instantly.  15 

Char.     They  are  but  words  in  him  ;    believe  them  not. 

Tarn.     See  ;    this  is  the  vault  where  he  must  enter  ; 
Where  now  I  think  he  is. 

Enter  Renel  at  the  vault,  with  the  Countess  being  blind 

Ren.  God  save  you,  lady  ! 

What  gentleman  is  this,  with  whom  you  trust 
The  deadly  weighty  secret  of  this  hour  ?  20 

Tarn.     One  that  yourself  will  say  I  well  may  trust. 

Ren.     Then  come  up,  madam. 

He  helps  the  Countess  up 
See  here,  honour'd  lady, 

A  Countess,  that  in  love's  mishap  doth  equal 
At  all  parts  your  wrong' d  self,  and  is  the  mistress 
Of  your  slam  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 
Promis'd  to  bring  her  to  this  mortal  quarry, 
That  by  her  lost  eyes  for  her  servant's  love,  30 

She  might  conjure  him  from  this  stern  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  sun  shall  see  him  live. 

Char.     I  am  provided,  then,  to  take  his  place  35 

And  undertaking  on  me. 

Ren.  You,  sir  !    Why  ? 

Char.     Since  I  am  charg'd  so  by  my  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  affairs,  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 

Umb.     Away,  dispute  no  more  ;    get  up  and  see  !  45 

Clermont  must  author  this  just  tragedy. 


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  impress'd,  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,  55 

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  beneath  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,  wert  thou  here  to  chide  20 

This  softness  from  my  flesh,  far  as  my  reason, 


140      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS       [Acx  V 

Far  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  Glermont  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  !     So  then,  this  is  confidence 

They  strike  him  down 
In  greatness,  not  in  goodness  :    where  is  the  King  ? 

The  King  comes  in  sight  with  Epernon,  Soissons,  and  others 

Let  him  appear  to  justify  his  deed 

In  spite  of  my  betray 'd  wounds,  ere  my  soul 

Take  her  flight  through  them,  and  my  tongue  hath  strength         40 

To  urge  his  tyranny. 

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  billows  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 
Will  be  the  fountain  to  a  purple  sea  : 
The  present  lust  and  shift  made  for  kings'  lives 
Against  the  pure  form  and  just  power  of  law,  55 


Sc.  4]       THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS        141 

Will  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 

Hen.     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  ! 
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  ? 

Tarn.  I  ?  None. 

Mont.     'Tis  false  ;    I  savour  the  rank  blood  of  foes 
In  every  corner. 

Tarn.  That  you  may  do  well, 

It  is  the  blood  you  lately  shed  you  smell. 

Mont.     'Sdeath,  the  vault  opes.  The  gulf  opens 

Tarn.  What  vault  ?     Hold  your  sword.       5 

Clermont  ascends 

Cler.     No,  let  him  use  it. 

Mont.  Treason,  murther,  murther  ! 

Cler.     Exclaim  not ;    'tis  in  vain,  and  base  in  you, 
Being  one  to  only  one. 

Mont.  O  bloody  strumpet ! 

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  yourself  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.     I  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. 

Cler.     Here,  then.  [Offers  to  kill  Montsurry] 

Mont.  Stay,  hold  !  One  thought  hath  harden' d  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']s  conquest,  die,  not  fight.     Lies  down 

Tarn.     Out  on  my  fortune,  to  wed  such  an  abject !  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. 

Cler .     Revenge  your  wounds  now,  madam  ;    I  resign  him 
Up  to  your  full  will,  since  he  will  not  fight.  50 

First  you  shall  torture  him  (as  he  did  you, 
And  Justice  wills),  and  then  pay  I  my  vow. 
Here,  take  this  poniard. 

Mont.  Sink  earth,  open  heaven, 

And  let  fall  vengeance  ! 

Tarn.  Come,  sir ;    good  sir,  hold  him. 

Mont.     O,  shame  of  women,  whither  art  thou  fled  !  55 

Cler.     Why  (good  my  lord),  is  it  a  greater  shame 
For  her  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'jAmbois  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  ? 

Cler.  It  is  very  noble, 

Had  it  been  free,  at  least,  and  of  yourself ;  70 

And  thus  we  see  (where  valour  most  doth  vaunt) 
What  'tis  to  make  a  coward  valiant. 

Mont.     Now  I  shall  grace  your  conquest. 

Cler.  That  you  shall. 

Mont.     If  you  obtain  it. 

Cler.  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, 
May  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' another  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 

[Enter  Renel,  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.  go 

Enter  Charlotte  [below] 

Cler.     [To  Charlotte]     What  would  you,  sir  ? 

Char.  I  would  perform  this  combat. 

Cler.     Against  which  of  us  ? 

Char.  I  care  not  much  if  'twere 

Against  thyself  :    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 ! 

Think  you  you  could  do  more  ? 

Char.  Alas  ;  I  do  ! 

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  Clermont]     Pray  thee,  let  him  decide  it. 

Cler.  No,  my  lord,     105 

I  am  the  man  in  fate,  and  since  so  bravely 


Sc.  5]     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS         145 

Your  lordship  stands  me,  scape  but  one  more  charge, 
And,  on  my  life,  I'll  set  your  life  at  large. 

Mont.     Said  like  a  D'Ambois,  and  if  now  I  die, 
Sit  joy  and  all  good  on  thy  victory  !     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  ! 

Tarn.  O,  it  breaks  my  heart ! 

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  ! 
Soft  lie  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  ! 
And  that  the  rest  with  them  with  joy  thus  celebrate 
This  our  revenge  !     This  certainly  presages 
Some  instant  death  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  learned'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  is  slain  1 
Cler .  Avert  it,  heaven  ! 

C.D.W.  L 


146      THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS       [Acr  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. 

Cler.     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  cast  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  calls,  my  ship,  my  venture, 

All  in  one  bottom  put,  all  quite  put  off, 

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  !     Clermont,  thy  creature,  comes. 

He  kills  himself 

Enter  Aumale,  Tamyra,  Charlotte 

Aum.     What,  lie  and  languish,  Clermont  ?     Cursed  man, 
To  leave  him  here  thus  !  He  hath  slain  himself.  195 

Tarn.     Misery  on  misery  !     O  me,  wretched  dame 
Of  all  that  breathe  !  All  heaven  turn  all  his  eyes 
In  hearty  envy  thus  on  one  poor  dame  ! 

Char.     Well  done,  my  brother  !  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  ! 
Ere  I  return  to  him,  I'll  turn  to  earth. 

Enter  Renel,  leading  the  Countess 

Ren.     Horror  of  human  eyes  !     O  Clermont  d'Ambois  ! 
Madam,  we  stay'd  too  long ;    your  servant's  slain.  205 

Count.     It  must  be  so ;    he  liv'd  but  in  the  Guise, 
As  I  in  him.     O  follow,  life,  mine  eyes  ! 

Tarn.     Hide,  hide  thy  snaky  head  !  To  cloisters  fly, 
In  penance  pine  !  Too  easy  'tis  to  die. 

Char.     It  is.     In  cloisters,  then,  let's  all  survive.  210 

Madam,  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 

Exeunt 


148     THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS       [Acx  V 

Enter  Henry,  Epernon,  Soissons,  and  others 

Hen.     We  came  indeed  too  late,  which  much  I  rue, 
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 


j;..tft  ai 

. 


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  extend  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 

161 


152 

happy  progeny  ;  which  most  affectionately  wishing,  and  dividing 
these  poor  dismembered  poems  betwixt  you,  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  France 
Had  pour'd  upon  the  country's  beaten  breast 
Her  batter'd  cities,  press'd  her  under  hills 
Of  slaughter'd  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  oress.    x? 
An5  set  her  shining  in  the  height  of  peace.  \s  0  oi~<? 
Ancl  now  new  cleans'd  from  dust,  from  sweat,  and  blood,          10 
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-shines  and  darkens,\  so  admir'd  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  Policy  drinks,  20 

He  bursts  in  growing  great,  and,  rising,  sinks  : 
Which  now  behold  in  our  conspirator, 
And  see  in  his  revolt  how  honour's  flood 
Ebbs  "into  air,  when  men  are  great,  not  good. 


163 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 


Henry  IV,  King  of  France. 

Albert,  Archduke  of  Austria. 

The  Duke  of  Savoy 

The  Duke  of  Byron 

D'Auvergne,  a  friend  of  Byron 

Nemours,      > 

Soissons, 

D'Aumont,    ^French  Noblemen 

Crequi, 

Epernon, 

Bellievre,  \  French         Commis- 

Brulart,    )    sioners  at  Brussels 

D'Aumale,    a   French   exile    at 

Brussels 

Picote,    a    Frenchman    in    the 
['  Spanish   service    at   Brussels 


Orange,  \  Noblemen  in  the 
Mansfield,  j  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 


154 


ACTUS    I     SCENA    I 
[Pans.     A  Room  in  the  Court] 
Enter  Savoy,  Rpncas,  Rochette,  Breton 

Sav.     I  would  not  for  half  Savoy  but  have  bound 
France  to  some  favour  by  my  personal  presence 
More  than  your  self,  my  Lord  Ambassador, 
Could  have  obtain'd  ;    for  all  ambassadors, 
You  know,  have  chiefly  these  instructions  : 
To  note  the  state  and  chief  sway  of  the  Court  \  J  ^ 
To  which  they  are  employ'd  1    to  penetrate 
The_heart  and,  marrow  of  the  King's  designs.  ^ 
And  to  observe  the  countenances  and  spirits 
Of  such  as  are  impatient  of  rest,*^  10 

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 

Within  the  powers  of  our  instruction  15 

To  make  you  comprehend  ;    I  will  do  more 
With  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'cine  desperate. 

Roch.  My  lord  knows 

The  Spanish  gloss  too  well ;  his  form,  stuff,  lasting, 


156  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [ACT  I 

And  the  most  dangerous  conditions  30 

He  lays  on  them  with  whom  he  is  in  league. 

Th*  injustice  in  the  most  unequal  dower 

Given  with  th'  Infanta,  whom  my  lord  espous'd, 

Compar'd  with  that  her  elder  sister  had, 

May  tell  him  how  much  Spam'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-Comte,  and  Low  Provinces. 

Bret.     We  should  not  set  these  passages  of  spleen' 
'Twixt  Spain  and  Savoy  :    to  the  weaker  part 
More  good  by  suff  'ranee  grows  than  deeds  of  heart  ; 
The  nearer  princes  are,  the  further  off  45 

In  rites  of  friendship  ;    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   hppe__in   France  you  Jgapw   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'  ;  <aiiX»>^ 
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  presenc^  66 

To  make  it  worthy  ;    for  he  is  a  man 
i*     Of  matchless  valour.  anor~was""ever  happy 

In  all  encounters,  which  were  still  made  good       :  ;''<J" 


With  an"  unwearied  sense  ot  any  toil,          \-\(SJ£.(x 

Having  continued  fourteen  days  together      *  65 

Upon  his  horse  ;    his  blood  is  not  voluptuous, 

Nor  much  inclined  to  women  ;    hjs  desires 

Are  higher  than  his  state,  and  his  deserts 

Not  much  short  'oi  the  most  he  can  desire, 

If*they-be  weigh'd  with  what  France  feeJ's  by  them  : 

He  is  past  measure  glorious  ;    and  that  humour  70 


Sc.  i]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  157 

Is  fit  to  feed  his  spirits,  whom  it  possesseth, 

With  faith  in  any  error,  chiefly  where 

Men  blow  it  up  with  praise  of  his  perfections  ; 

The  taste  whereof ijn  Jiim  so  soothes  his  palate.  75 

And  takes  up  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  sustain'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*upreme  intention  oi  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  wil|  return  \  $*/>)&£ 

'd  and  made  the  more  fit  for  the  physic  w  I 

Kcm. 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 
Will  serve  Byron,  as  he  were  made  for  him, 

In    giving   W-nf    fr>    h^    fl|rphi-HrmQ    vfiin  IOQ 

Affd  thafte.  de  La  Fjfl.    DTgPC/ae/OOxS 

Sav.'  You  telr*me  true, 

And  him  I  think  you  have  prepar'd  for  me. 

Ron.     I  have,  my  lord,  and  doubt  not  he  will  prove 
Of  the  yet  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  inform 'd 
Of  all  the  passages,  and  means  for  mines 
That  may  be  thought  on  to  his  taking  in.  no 


158  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  I 

!•;   !•'>:>!  «v)  it)   tf 
Enter  Henry  and  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  -^ 

With  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,  m 

To  wage  worse  battles  with  the  arms  of  peace.  \s 

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.  JO/ 

The  overplus  of  kings,  in  all  their  might,  3p&££ll     J4° 

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  the  sky, 
If  thunder  chid  me,  for  my  equity. 

Hen.     Thy  equity  is  to  be  ever  banish'd 
From  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,  -•*       **  > 

rfasi  no  heart  But  to  hurt,  and  eat'st  thy  he^art, 

If  it  but  think  of  doing  any  good  : 

Thou"  witchest  with  thy  smiles,  suck'st  blood  with  praises, 

Mpck'st  all  humanity  ;    society  poison'st,  155 

Cozen'st  with  virtue  ;    with  religion 

Betray'st  and  massacrest  ;    so  vile  thyscl^^ 

That  thou  suspect'st  perfection  in  others  : 

A  man  must  think  of  all  the  villanies  *l 

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] 

Saw.     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  turn'd  ears  to  eyes  ; 
And  those  strange  characters,  writ  in  his  face,       .  £7° 

Which  at  first  sight  were  hard  for  meJ-oj^H     //^*y.A    / 
THe  doctrine  of  your  speech  hath  made  so  plain  '*  <t 

That  I  run  through  them  like  my  natural  language 
Nor  do  I  like  that  man's  aspect,  methinks, 
Of  all  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  honev 
Sweat  from  laborious  virtue,  and  denies  fi 

To  give  those  of  Navarre,  though  bred  with  you, 
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. 

^*<fl.AA«***i   4.V-1 

"** 


160  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  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. 

Sav.     Else  may  their  whole  estates  fly,  rooted  up, 
To  ignominy  and  oblivion  :  205 

And  (being  your  neighbour,  servant,  and  poor  kinsman) 
I  wish  your  mighty  race  might  multiply, 
Even  to  the  period  of  all  empery. 

Hen.     Thanks  to  my  princely  cousin  :    this  your  love 
And  honour  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  Byron,  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 

Rois.     The  wondrous  honour  done  our  Duke  Byron 
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  ^vaToTTr,  and  how  he 
Accepts  and  stands  attractive  to  their  ends, 
That  so  I  may  not  seem  an  idle  spot         ^ 
In  trairTof  this  ambassage/ but  return     (Jjfej£f££ 
ABle  to  give  our  King  some  note  of  all,^  / 

Worth  my~attendance ;    and  see,  here's  the  man,  10 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  161 

Who  (though  a  Frenchman  and  in  Orleans  born, 

Serving  the  Archduke)  I  do  most  suspect, 

Is  set  to  be  the  tempter  of  our  Duke  ; 

I'll  go  where  I  may  see,  although  not  hear.  [Retires] 

Enter  Picote,  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,  andher_darkjjifiast 
E&T  made  the  clear  glass  of  Jtiis__shnnji^-^i:aees  ; 
We'll  make  his  feet  so  tender  they  shall  gall 
In  all  patns^but  to^  empire  ;    and  therein  20 

I'll  make  the  sweet  steps  of  his  state  begin. 

Exit  [Picote  with  Servants] 

Loud  music,  and  enter  Byron 

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  shall  dissolve  in  changing ;    'tis  so  full 
Of  pleasure  not  to  be  contain'd  in  flesh  : 

To  fear_a  violent  good  abuseth  goodness,  30 

'Tis.  immortality  to  die  aspiring, 
As  if  a  man  were  taken  quick  to  heaven  ; 
What  will  not  hold  perfection,  let  it  burst ; 
What  force  hath  any  cannon,  not  being  charg'd,  *^ 
Or* being  notj^isciiajrg'd  P     To  have  stuff  and  fnrmr  35 

Arid  to  lie  idle,  fearful,  and  n'mii'4 
Nor  form  'nor  stuff  shows  ;    happy  Semele^ 
Thctt~di6d  compress  d  wjth  g^nry  I 
Denies  comparison  of  lessor  rnnrei 
AricTnof  at  most,  is~]nojiiingp-  like  jthe.  shaft-  —  40 

Shot  atTthe  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  V" 

""""""  ' "Music  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, 

C.D.W.  M 


162  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  I 

That  out  of  every  thing  his  each  part  touch' d 

Struck  musical  accents  ;    wheresoe'er  I  go, 

They  hide  the  earth  from  me  with  coverings  rich,  50 

To  make  me  think  that  I  am  here  in  heaven. 

Enter  Picote  in  haste 
Pic.     This  way,  your  Highness. 
Byr.  Come  they  ? 

Pic.  Ay,  my  lord  ! 

Exeunt 

Enter  the  other  Commissioners  of  France,  Bellievre,  Brulart, 
[with]  D'Aumale,  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  rites  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  Picote  [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,       •^•>'r' 
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 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  163 

IB  any  office  but  disloyalty^; ^  80 

But  that  hath  ever  snow'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  fasKion,  and  hath  done 
Service  enough,  were  rustic  misery  : 
The  habit  of  a  servile  loyalty       »« 
Is  reckon'd  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 

Aolverse  to  him  ;    or  suffers  anv  fellow  100 

Jom/d  m  jiis  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  that  simple  loyalty, 
Faith,  love,  sincerity,  are  but  words,  no  things, 
Merely  devis'd  for  form  ;    and  as  the  Legate, 
Sent  from  his  Holiness  to  frame  a  peace 

'Twixt  Spain  and  Savoy,  labour'd  fervently,  120 

For  common  ends,  not  for  the  Duke's  particular, 
To  have  him  sign  it ;    he  again  endeavours, 


164  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acr  I 

Not  for  the  Legate's  pains,  but  his  own  pleasure, 

To  gratify  him  ;    and  being  at  last  encounter' d, 

Where  the  flood  Ticin  enters  into  Po,  125 

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  fiery  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  intends. 

Byr.     O,  'tis  a  dangerous  and  a  dreadful  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  from  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  treason) 
His  trees  about  it  cut  off  by  their  waists  ; 
•  So,  when  men  fly  the  natural  clime  of 
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  all  their  fruits. 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  165 

[Enter  the  Archduke  Albert] 

Alb.     O,  here  were  now  the  richest  prize  in  Europe,  165 

Were  he  but  taken  in  affection.  [Embracing  Byron] 

Would  we  might  grow  together,  and  be  twins 
Of  cither's  fortune,  or  that,  still  embrac'd, 
I  were  but  ring  to  such  a  precious  stone. 

Byr.     Your  Highness'  honours  and  high  bounty  shown  me    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  175 

Reciprocal  and  full  intelligence. 

Alb,     Even  for  your  own  deserved  royal  good 
'Tis  joyfully  accepted  ;  use  the  loves 
And  worthy  admirations  of  your  friends, 

That  beget  vows  of  all  things  you  can  wish,  180 

And  be  what  I  wish  :  danger  says,  no  more.  Exit 

Enter  Mansfield,  at  another  door 

Exit  Picote 

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 
Might  be  commanded  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 

D'Aum.     All  majesty  be  added  to  your  Highness, 
Of  which  I  would  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  Picote 
Pic.     Away,  my  lord,  the  lords  inquire  for  you. 

Exit  Byron  [and  Picote] 


166  '  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  II 

Manet  Orange,  D'Aumale,  Roiseau 
Or.     Would  we  might  win  his  valour  to  our  part. 
D'Aum.     *Tis  well  prepared  in  His  entreaty  here,  209 

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  [below']  Albert,  Byron,  Bellievre,  Mansfield,  with  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 

I'll  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] 

Rois.     [advancing]  Here  hath  been  strange  demeanour,        225 

which  shall  fly 
To  the  great  author  of  this  ambassy.  [Exit] 

FINIS    ACTUS    I 


ACTUS    II     SCENA    I 

•  '/    1C'     f':n  '.:><.!    j*t   £ 

[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  for  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  threaten 'd  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  so  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  hjm, 

And  more  than  that,  which  now  I  will  not  tell  you 
It  rests  now  then,  noble  and  worthy  friend, 
Thatjto  our  friendship  we  draw_  Duke  Byron, 
To  whose  attraction  there  is  no  such  chain 
As  you  can  forge  and  shake  out  of  your  brain. 

La  F.     I  have  devis'd  the  fashion  and  the  weight ; 
Tc^^alpjirsJiajrA^^  use_xetreats  '•  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  threaten'd  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  answer'd  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  prcpar'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.  j 

Sav.     But  undertake  it,  and  I  rest  assur'd  :        .vW'i  3L> 

You  are  report^]  |^>  fofl.tzg  skill  in  magic  jS*f^fc     .       jjtf     ' 

Arm  the  events  of  things,  at  which  they  reach  *?|/(J&*^          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 


168  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  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,  close  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]. 

Sav.     Thanks  to  my  dear  friend  and  the  French  Ulysses. 

Exit  Savoy  [cum  suis] 

Enter  Byron 

Byr.     Here  is  the  man.     My  honour'd  friend,  La  Fin  ! 
Alone,  and  heavy  countenanc'd  ?     On  what  terms 
Stood  th'  insultation  of  the  King  upon  you  P^  55 

La  F.     Why  do  you  ask  ? 

Byr.  Since  I  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  all  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  f, 
As  my  flay  d  Carcass  ;  you  snail  never  close  Jl 
With  me,  as  you  imagine.  ^^ 

Byr.  You  much  wrong  me 

To  think  me  an  intelligencing  instrument.  70 

La  F.     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  offend  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.  i]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  169 

Byr.     How  strange  is  this  !  the  shame  of  his  disgrace 
Hath  made  him  lunatic. 

La  F.  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  yofl  were  gone  (I  care  not  if  you  tell  him) 
I  might^bgjtempted  then  to  right  myself.^-  Exit 

Byr.     He  has  a  will  to  me,  and  dares  not  show  it ;  90 

His  state  decay 'd,  and  he  disgrac'd,  distracts  him. 

Redit  La  Fin 

La  F.     Change  not  my  words,  my  lord  ;  I  only  said  : 
*X  might  be  tempted  then  to  riffht  myself '  ; 
Temptation  to  treason  is  no  treason ; 

And  that  word  '  tempted  '  was  conditional  too,  95 

'  If  you  were  gone  '  ;  I  pray  inform  the  truth.       Exiturus 

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,  100 

A  poor  and  expuate  Uiimojir  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,  no 

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  :  if  in  midst  of  whiter 
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  skies, 
Prove  power  to  do  it,  I  can  make  it  good  ; 
And  tell  him  this  too  :  if  to  lift  the  sea 

^*  .  -L  "M  'U^T^j 


ijfc  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  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. 

~Byr.  '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  scorn' 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, 
f  As  my  religion  ;  and  for  other  laws 
He  is  a  fool  that  keeps  them  with  more  cafe 
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  !  Exit 

Byr.     How  fit  a  sort  were  this  to  handsel  Fortune  !          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  :      .    l^r-^^^X 
I  am  put  off  from  this  dull  shore  of  [ease]      *  ^L 

Into  industrious  and  high-going  seas;  \*x|k^^        150 

Where,  like  Pelid.es  in  Scamander's  flood, 
Up  to  the  ears  in  surges  I  will  fight, 
:  And  pluck  French  Ilion  underneath  the  waves  ! 
If  to  be  highest  stuTTbe  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,  held  for  his, 


f>*C2J^**s>        t 
7|)  •/  6* 

»   AJL&-* 


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  :  -f 

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, 

Which  only  makes  our  best  acts  brook  the  light, 

And  their  ends  had,  we  think  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  Court]  I  ^ 

Enter  Henry,  Roiseau  .-   *i  "•** 

Hen.     WasMie  so  courted  ? 

a  c^v  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  worshipp'd  in  the  Archduke's  Court ; 

And  as  th'  assistants  that  your  Majesty  10 

Join'd  in  commission  with  him,  or  myself, 

Or  any  other  doubted  eye  appear'd, 

He  ever  vanish'd  ;  and  as  such  a  dame, 

As  we  compar'd  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  confirm'd  behaviour, 

As  she  ^ame  quitted  from  confession  :  20 

So  from  Ms  scapes  would  he  present  a  presence, 

The  practice  of  his  state  adultery, 


'*  ' 


172  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  II 

And  guilt,  that  should  a  graceful  bosom  strike, 

Drown'd  in  the  set  lake  of  a  hopeless  cheek. 

Hen.     It  may  be  he  dissembled,  or  suppose  25 

He  be  a  little  tainted,  men  whom  virtue 

Forms  with  the  stuff  of  Eortune,  great  and  gracious, 

Must  needs  partake  with  Fortune  in  her  humour 

Of  instability,  and  are  like  to  shafts 
/  Grown  crook'd  with  standing,  which  to  rectify  30 

Must  twice  as  much  be  bow'd  another  way. 

He  that  hath  borne  wounds  for  his  worthy  parts, 

Must  for  his  worst  be  borne  with  :  we  must  fit 

Our  government  to  men,  as  men  to  ~rfr~ 

In  old  time  they  that  hunted  savage  beasts  35 

Are  said  to  clothe  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. 

In  all  things  govern'd,  their  infirmities 

Must  not  be  stirr'd,  nor  wrought  on;  Duke  Byron 
[Flows  with  adust  and  melancholy  choler, 
'  And  'melancholy  spirits  are  venomous, 

Not  to  IbeTouch'd,  but  as  tne^jTrnav'  be  cur'd 

I  thereloriT  mean  to  make  him  change  the  air, 

And  send  him  further  from  those  Spanish  vapours. 

TnaJTstiii  bear  jighting  sulphur  in  their  breasts. 

To  breathe  a  while  in  temperate  English  air^ 

Where  lips  are  spic'd  with  free  and  loyal  counsels,  50 

j  Where  policies  are  not  ruinous,  but  saving  ; 

Wisdom  is  simple,  valour  righteous, 

Human,  and  hating  facts  of  brutish  forces  ; 

And  whose  grave  natures  scorn  the  scoffs  of  France, 

The  empty  compliments  of  Italy,  55 

The  any-way  encroaching  pride  of  Spain, 

And  love  men  modest,  hearty,  just,  and  plain. 

[Enter]  Savoy,  whispering  with  La  Fin 

Sav.  [aside]     I'll  sound  him  for  Byron  ;    and  what  I  find 
In  the  King's  depth,  I'll  draw  up,  and  inform 
In  excitations  to  the  Duke's  revolt,  60 

When  next  I  meet  with  him. 

La  F.  [aside]  It  must  be  done 

With  praising  of  the  Duke  ;  from  whom  the_Kng 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  173 

Will  take  to  give  himself ;  which,  told  the  Duke, 
Will  take  his  heart  up  into  all  ambition. 

Sav.  [aside]     I  know  it,  politic  friend,  and  'tis  my  purpose.  *o  5 

Exit  La  Fin 

Your  Majesty  hath  miss'd  a  royal  sight : 
The  Duke  Byron  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  first  loyalty  serving  (one  commanding,    / 
And  no  way  being  mov'd  ;  the  other  serving,       /  75 

And  no  way  being  compell'd)  of  all  the  sights 
That  ever  my  eyes  witness'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  ; 
Your  wit  is  of  the  true  Pierian  spring, 
That  can  make  anything  of  anything.      X  85 

Sav.  So  brave  a  subject  as  the  Duke,  no  king 
Seated  on  earth  can  vaunt  of  but  your  Highness, 
So  valiant,  loyal,  and  so  great  in  service. 

Hen.  No  question  he  sets  valour  in  his  height. 
And  hath  _d'one  service  to  an  equal  pitch"  90 

Fortune  attending  him  with  fit  events.  X 
To  all  his  vent'rous  and  welMaid  attempts. 

Sav.     Fortune  to  him  was3uno  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  forc'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  ? 
Fortune  is  so  far  from  his  creditress      k 
That  she  owes  him  much,  for  in  him  her  looks 
Are  lovely,  modest,  and  magnanimous, 


174  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  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  flow'd  so  high 
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,  assur'd  of  victory, 
Drew  out  a  body  of  four  thousand  horse 

And  twice  six  thousand  foot,  and,  like  a  crescent,  115 

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  120 

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  beards  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,  seconds  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  encounter' d. 

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  j^/tV/ 

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  I  would  do  right  to  him,  yet  must  not  give — . ,  73* 

Sav.     A  league  fron>'Fountaine  Fran9oise>  when  you  sent 

him 
To  make  discovery  of  the  Castile  army,  145 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  175 

When  he  discern'd  'twas  it,  with  wondrous  wisdom 

Join'd  to  his  spirit,  he  seem'd  to  make  retreat, 

But  when  they  press' d  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  turn'd  your  brave  Duke  head,  and,  with  such  ease 

As  doth  an  echo  beat  back  violent  sounds 

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  aslc  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  Marshal,  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  follow'd, 
Before  he  could  relate  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  fight ; 
The  second  all  amazed  you  overthrew  ; 
The  third  dispers'd,  with  five  and  twenty  horse; 
Left  of  the  fourscore  that  pursu'd  the  chase  :  180 

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  ;  185 

And  him  he  sets  on,  as  he  had  been  shot 
Out  of  a  cannon  ;  beats  him  into  rout, 


176  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  II 

And  as  a  little  brook  being  overrun 

With  a  blaqk  torrent,  that  bears  all  things  down 

His  fury  overtakes,  his  foamy  back  190 

Loaded  with  cattle  and  with  stacks  of  corn, 

And  makes  the  miserable  plowman  mourn  ; 

!f   So  was  Du  Maine  surcharg'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 
I     He  won  the  place  from  fifteen  hundred  horse. 
Hen.     He  won  the  place  ?  4^" 

Sav.  On  my  word,  so  'tis  said ! 

Hen.     Fie,  you  have  been  extremely  misinform'd. 
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, 
A^Commanded  him,  and  in  the  main  assault  210 

Made  him  but  second  ? 

Sav.  He's  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  countrymen)  here  serv'd  215 

{  The  General,  Mylor'  Norris,  sent  from  England, 
?  As  great  a  captain  as  the  world  affords, 
One  fit  to  lead  and  fight  for  Christendom, 
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  temperate  than  the  General ; 
And  being  familiar  with  the  man  you  praise, 
(Because  he  knew  him  haughty  and  incapable 

4 


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,         S 
And,  than  what  I  possess,  I'll  more  be  known.  240 

Sav.  [aside]     All  this  shall  to  the  Duke  ;  I  fish'd  for  this. 

Exeunt 

FINIS   ACTUS   SECUNDI 


ACTUS    III     SCENA  I 

[A  Room  in  Byron's  House] 

Enter  La  Fin,  Byron  following,  unseen 

La  F.  [aside]     A  feigned  passion  in  his  hearing  now 
(Which  he  thinks  I  perceive  not),  making  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  our  joy  of  life,  the  death  of  sleep  : 
So  when  the  glories  of  our  lives,  men's  loves, 
Clear  consciences,  our  fames,  and  loyalties, 

C.D  w.  N 


178  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  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 

Impos'd  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  free-born  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. 
•f    Byr.  There  is  no  truth  of  any  good 

To  be  discern'd  on  earth  :  and,  by  conversion, 

Nought  therefore  simply  bad  ;  but  as  the  stuff 

Prepar'd  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, 
i  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 


U 


Sc.  i]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  179 

That  pull'd  us  down  with  clear  truth  of  their  gospel, 
Were  superstition  to  be  hiss'd  to  hell.     / 

La  F.     Believe  it,  this  is  reason. 

Byr.  'Tis  the  faith/ 

Of  reason  and  of  wisdom^^. 

La  F.  [_You  persuadej      ^/ 

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  on  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  well  known  to  him. 

La  F.  But  hath  your  flight?  ess 

Some__enterprise.  of  value  join'd  with  him  ? 

Byr  .     With  him  and  greater  2ersons  ! 

La  F.  I  will  creep  80 

Upon  my  bosom  in  your  princely  service. 

Vouchsafe  to  make  me  known.     I  hear  there  lives  not,       cr  A 
So  kind,  so  bountiful,  and  wise  a  prince  (l£~* 

But  in  your  own  excepted  excellence. 

Byr.     He  shall  both  know  and  love  you  :  are_y_ou-inin£  ?  <X     85 

La  F.     I  take  the  honour  of  it,  on  my  knee. 
And  hope  to  quite  it  with  your  Majesty.     )fr         [Exeunt] 


[SCENA  II 

A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  Savoy,  Roncas,  Rochette,  Breton 

Sat;.     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,  5 


i8o  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  III 

That's  sought  as  hard  to  win,  that  sues  to  be  won. 

Sav.     But  is  my  painter  warn'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  10 

The  royal  promise  of  his  rare  aspect, 
As  if  he  heard  not. 

Sav.  'Twill  inflame  him  : 

Such  tricks  the  Archduke  us'd  t'extol  his.  greatness, 
Which  compliments,  though  plain  men  hold  absurd, 
And  a  mere  remedy  for  desire  of  greatness,  15 

Yet  great  men  use  them  as  their  state  potatoes, 
High  cullises,  and  potions  to  excite  ~  g~ 

The  lust  of  their  ambition  :  and  this  Duke  "" 


You  know  is  noted  in  his  natural  garb 

Extremely  glorious  ;  wjio  will  therefore  bring     7  20 

An  appetite  expecting  such  a  bait  : 

He  comes  ;  go  instantly,  and  fetch  the  painter. 


5 


Enter  Byron,  La  Fin 

Byr.     All  honour  to  your  Highness  ! 

Sav.  'Tis  most  true,   [embracing  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  you  ;  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  honour' d  friend  of  mine. 

U^av.  Your  name,  I  pray  you,  sir  ? 

\a  F.     La  Fin,  my  lord. 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  181 

Sou.  La  Fin  ?     [To  Roncas]  Is  this  the  man, 

That  you  so  recommended  to  my  love  ?  ^ 

.R<w. The  same,  my  lord. 

Saw.  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  continent  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  of  his  own  deserts. 

Byr.     Of  all  men's  else  ?  Would  he  weigh  other  men's 
With  my  deseryings  ? 

Sav.  Ay,  upon  my  life, 

The  English  General,  the  Mylor'  Norris.  55 

Tliat  servjd  amongst  you  here,  he  parallel'^ 
With  you  at  all  parts,  and  in  some  prpfcrr'rl  him  ; 
AnoT  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 

spoil  ,    j     — T- 

Of  all  her  merits  in  me,  he  shall  rue  it.  ^T^J^/1  fit  I     -  ' 

Did  ever  Curtian  Gulf  play  such  a  DarU  /  '     '  65 

HacL  Curtius  been  so  us'd,  if  he  had  brook'd  „ . 

That  ravenous  whirlpool,  pour'd  his  solid  spirits          U± 

Through  earth'  dissolved  sinews,  stopp'd  her  veins, 

And  rose  with  saved  Rome,  upon  his  back ; 

As  I  swum  pools  of  fire  and  gulfs  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, 

Shines  hotly  in  him,  as  the  sun  in  clouds  80 

Purpled  and  made  proud  with  a  peaceful  even  : 


182  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [ACT  III 

But  when  I  throughly  set  to  him,  his  cheeks 
Will,  like  those  clouds,  forego  their  colour  quite, 
And  his  whole  blaze  smoke  into  endless  night. 

Sav.     Nay,  nay,  we  must  have  no  such  gall,  my  lord,  85 

O'erflow  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  arm,  t^*          90 
That  with  ^fiis  motion  made  the  whole  field  move  ? 
And  this  held  up,  we  still  had  victory. 
When  overcharg'd  with  number,  his  few  friends 
Retir'd  amaz'd,  I  set  them  on  assur'd, 

And  what  rude  ruin  seized  on  I  confirm'd  ;     •%</'  95 

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,  100 

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  flying, 
Like  wandering  pulses  spers'd  through  bodies  dying.  105 

Sav.     It  cannot  be  denied  ;  'tis  all  so  true 
That  what  se^ms  arrogance,  is  desert  in  you. 

Byr.     What  monstrous  humours  feed  a  prince's  blood, 
Being  bad  to  good  men,  and  to  bad  men  good  ! 

Sav.     Well,  let  these  contradictions  pass,  my  lord,  no 

Till  they  be  reconcil'd,  or  put  in  form, 
By  power  given  to  your  will,  and  you  present 
The  fashion  of  a  perfect  government : 
In  mean  space  but  a  word,  we  have  small  time 
To  spend  tin  private,  which  I  wish  may  be  115 

all  advantage  taken  :  Lord  La  Fin — 

Ron.     Is't  not  a  face  of  excellent  presentment  ?      *|     jP' 
Though  not  so  amorous  with  pure  white  and  red,          43r 
Yet  is  the  whole  proportion  singular. 

Roch.     That  ever  I  beheld ! 

Bret.  It  hath  good  lines,  120 

And  tracts  drawn  through  it ;  the  [profile]  rare. 

Ron.     I  heard  the  famous  and  right  learned  Earl 
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 !     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 

Th'af  looEs  out  ot  thk  duchy  Wliere  f  jjoVern          | 

Into  your  Highness'  duk_ftf]pm,  fir«^FTTT5rTp  yours.  ^* 

And  then  with  jiuch  Im^itable  art  jUt 

Expfegs^Tand  ^andTeoCchieflv  from  the^pjace 

Where  most  conspicuously  he  shows  his_Ja£e,  j|          160 

Thaf,  though  it  keep  the  truj£joCTa~o£  that  hill  J 

In  "all  his  longitudes  and  latitudes,  Dp      * 

His  ^height;  nis  distancesTand^ f ulljyopnrt.inn ,          ^     #w  Kx> 
Yet  shall  if  "clearly  bear  my  cpjin±erieST 


184  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  III 

Both  in  my  face  and  all  my  lineaments ;  165 

And  every  man  shall  say  :  This  is  Byron  ! 

Within  my  left  hand  I  -win  Vin1^  a  r,1ty. 

Wnich  is  the  city  Amiens,  at  whose  siege 

I  served  so  memorably;  frjgrn.my  right 

I'lipour  an  endless  flood  into  a  sea  170 

Raging  beneath  me,  which  shall  intimate  £/ 

My  ceaseless  service  drunk  up  by  the  King,     ^x 

As  th'  ocean  drinks  up  rivers  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  ;  lyHnpr  worth 

ShaH  only  set  the  Duke  of  Byron  forth. 

Sav.     U  that  yoll!  stalllary  iioUld  express  you 
With  any  nearness  to  your  own  instructions  ! 
That  statue  would  I  prize  past  all  the  jewels  180 

Within  my  cabinet  of  Beatrice, 
The  memory  of  my  grandame  Portugal. 
Most  royal  Duke,  we  cannot  long  endure 
To  be  thus  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  show  yourself  the  more  obsequious. 

'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 ! 

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  numbly  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  185 

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. 

Sois.  He  deserves  it  highly. 

Exit  [Savoy  with  the  Lords].     Manet  Byron  and  La  Fin 

Byr.     What  wrongs  are  these,  laid  on  me  by  the  King,  210 
To  equal  others'  worths  in  war  with,  mine  !  ^^ 
Endure  this,  and  be  turn'd  into  nis  moil 
To  bear  his  sumptures  ;  honour' d  friend,  be  true, 
And  we  will  turn  these  torrents.     Hence,  the  King ! 

Exit  La  Fin 

Enter  Henry,  Epernon,  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  j 

Of  constellations,  nor  security  |.—  ^^  Jl^ltfO     *<-*- 

In  vicious  peace,  are  surer  fatal  ushers         &£->&* 
Of  [feral]  mischiefs  and  mortalities  JU^e*  ^  *i     3* 

Than  this  prodigious  fiend  is,  where  he  fawns:  225    \J /\       ^ 

La  Fiend    and  not  La  Fin,  he  should  be  call'd/^ 
TTyr.     J-3e  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  the  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 


186  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  like  friends,  as  wolves  like 
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  bays, 
His  lips  break  out  with  nectar,  his  tun'd  feet 
Are  of  the  great  last,  the  perpetual  motion, — 
And  he  puffd  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  puff  men  too  with  persuasions 

That  they  are  gods  in  worth  and  may  rise  kings 

With  treading  on  their  noises  ;  yet'  the  worthiest, 

Frolrfoniy  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, 

Grace  to  her  poorest  subjects,  Majesty 

To  awe  the  greatest,  have  respects  divine, 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  187 

And  in  her  each  part,  all  the  virtues  shine. 

Exit  Henry  [cum  suis]  :  manet  Byron 

Byr.     Enjoy  your  will  awhile,  I  may  have  mine.  285 

Wherefore,  before  I  part  to  this  ambassage, 
I'll  be  resolv'd  by  a  magician  .^p  __ 

That  dwells  hereby,  to  whom  I'll  go  disguis'd    ,.  >$&  J  c~/l/  £  ; 
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.  ~*s)/Ul  Exit 


[SCENA  III 

The  House  of  the  Astrologer] 
Enter  La  Brosse 

La  B.     This  hour  by  all  rules  of  astrology 
Is  dangerous  to  m^  person,  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  ! 
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. 

[Enter]  Byron  solus,  disguised  like  a  Carrier  of  Letters 

Byr,  [aside]     The  forts  that  favourites  hold  in  princes' 

hearts,  20 

In  common  subjects'  loves,  and  their  own  strengths, 


i88  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Act  TH 

Are  not  so  sure  and  unexpugnable 

But  that  the  more  they  are  presum'd  upon, 

The  more  they  fail :  daily  and  hourly  proof 

Tiells  us  prosperity  is  at  highest  degree  25 

le  fount  and  handle  of  calamity  : 
Like  dust  before  a  whirlwind  those  men  fly 

lat  prostrate  on  the  grounds  of  Fortune  lie  ; 
aid  being  great,  like  trees  that  broadest  sprout, 
Their  own  top-heavy  state  grubs  up  their  root.  30 

^These  apprehensions  startle  all  my  powers, 
;And  arm  them  with  suspicion  gainst  themselves.     « 
I  In  my  late  projects  I  have  cast  myself 
I  Into  the  arms  of  others,  and  will  see 

I  If  they  will  let  me  fall,  or  toss  me  up  35 

Into  th'  affected  compass  of  a  throne. — 
"  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  JJ 
Who  sent  me  to  you  and  wnose  birth  it  is. 
La  B.     I'll  herein  do  my  best  in  your  desire. 

[He  contemplates  the  figure] 
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  : 

But  tell  me  on  what  end  he  shall  arrive. 

La  B.     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  Caput  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. 
La  B.     You'll  rather  wish  you  had  been  ignorant, 
Than  be  instructed  in  a  thing  so  ill. 

Byr.     Ignorance  is  an  idle  salve  for  ill ;  ^/    \ 


Sc.  3]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  189 

And  therefore  do  not  urge  me  to  enforce  Go 

What  I  would  freely  know  ;  for  by  the  skill 
Shown  in  thy  aged  hairs  I'll  lay  thy  brain 
Here  scattered  at  m^  fc«t  ami  seek  in  that 
What  safely  thou  must  utter  with  thy  tongue, 
'~~ 


La  IT  Will  you  not  allow  me  65 

To  hold  my  peace  ?     What  less  can  I  desire  ? 
If  not,  be  pleas'd  with  my  constrained  speech. 

Byr.     Was  ever  man  yet  punish'd  for  expressing 
What  he  was  charg'd  ?     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.     Curs'd  be  thy  throat  and  soul,  raven,  screech-owl, 
hag  !  [Beating  La  BrosseJ 

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  confusions,  of  the  shameful  end 
Of  all  my  services  ;  witch,  fiend,  accurs'd 
For  ever  be  the  poison  of  thy  tongue, 
And  let  the  black  fume  of  thy  venom  'd  breath 
Infect  the  air,  shrink  heaven,  put  out  the  stars,  80 

And  rain  so  fell  and  blue  a  plague  on  earth, 
That  all  the  world  may  falter  with  my  fall. 

La  B.     Pity  my  age,  my  lord. 

Byr.  Out,  prodigy, 

Remedy  of  pity,  mine  of  flint, 

Whence  with  my  nails  and  feet  I'll  dig  enougk  85 

Horror  and  savage  cruelty  tojbuild 
Temples  to  Massacre  :  dam  of  devils  take  thce  ! 
Had'st  thou  ""no'TSetter  end  to  crown  my  parts. 
The  bulls  'bTTolchis     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  "hb€"Bave  burni  my  blo6d  so.  ^  .'" 

La  -ft-  —  I  told  truth, 

And  could  have  flatter  'd  you. 

Byr.  O  that  thou  had'st  ! 

Would  I  had  given  thee  twenty  thousand  crowns  95 

That  thou  had'st  flatter'd  me;  there's  no  joy  on  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.  100 

La  B.     I  knew  you  not. 

Byr.  Peace,  dog  of  Pluto,  peace ! 

Thou  knew'st  my  end  to  come,  not  me  here  present  : 
Pox  of  your  halting  human  knowledges  ! 

0  Death,  how  far  off  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  nooier  substance  than  the  stars, 
\f    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  will  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  ? 

Malignant  in  aspects,  in  bloody  houses  ? 

Wild  fire  consume  them  !  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  spheres  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'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  ;  you  have  height  enough 

Beneath  this  steep  heaven  to  use  all  your  reaches ; 

'Tis  too  far  off  to  let  you,  or  respect  you. 
*  Give  me  a  spirit  that  on  this  life's  rough  sea  135 

Loves  t'have  his  sails  fill'd  with  a  lusty  wind, 

Even  till  his  sail-yards  tremble,  his  masts  crack, 

And  his  rapt  ship  run  on  her  side  so  low 


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 

Exit 


ACTUS   IV   SCENA  I 

[A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  D'Aumont,  with  Crequi 

D'Aum.     The  Duke  of  Byron  is  return'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.  I  can  serve  your  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  little  kingdom 
In  every  entertainment ;  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  learn'd 
Of  his  good  knights  and  servants  of  your  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  consume  us,  not  to  be  restor'd 
By  your  presentment  of  him,  but  his  person  : 
And  we  had  [not]  thought  that  he  whose  virtues  fly  25 


192  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [ACT  IV 

So  beyond  wonder  and  the  reach  of  thought, 
Should  check  at  eight  hours'  sail,  and  his  high  spirit, 
That  stoops  to  fear,  less  than  the  poles  of  heaven, 
Should  doubt  an  under-billow  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  Crystal  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  friends  for  new,  and  sets  his  soothed  ease 
t  Above  his  honour  ;  marshals  policy  55 

J  In  rank  before  his  justice,  and  his  profit 
Before  his  royalty  ;  his  humanity  gone, 
To  make  me  no  repayment  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  relics  to  his  utter  ruin,  65 

Without  more  near  eyes  fix'd  upon  his  feet, 
Than  those  that  look  out  of  his  country's  soil. 


Sc.  i]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  193 

And  this  may  well  excuse  his  personal  presence, 

Which  yet  he  oft  hath  long'd  to  set  by  yours, 

That  he  might  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  forth  more  worthy  spirits 

For  counsel,  valour,  height  of  wit  and  art, 

Than  any  other  region  of  the  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  clouds  : 

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  drown 

The  world  in  admiration  of  your  crown '.  100 

D'Aum.     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  you  breathe  hath  made  me, 

My  studious  love  of  your  rare  government, 

And  simple  truth,  which  is  most  eloquent  ; 

Your  Empire  is  so  amply  absolute  no 

C.D.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  turn'd, 

Ord'ring  and  fixing  his  affairs  by  yours) 

He  may  at  last,  on  firm  grounds,  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  clear,  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  their  natural  heat : 
For  to  aspire  to  competence  with  your  King, 
What  subject  is  so  gross  and  giantly  ? 
He  having  now  a  Dauphin  born  to  him, 

Whose  birth,  ten  days  before,  was  dreadfully  145 

Usher'd  with  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. 


Sc.  i]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  195 

So  we  admire  your  valour  and  your  virtues, 

And  ever  will  contend  to  win  their  honour'.  155 

Then  spake  §foe  to  Creguj  and  Prince  d'Auvergne, 

And  gave  all  gracious  farewells  ;    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 

Arion  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  despite 

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         t^" 

For  all  the  royalties  in  .Christendom  '. 

'  Fix  there  your  foot ',  said  he,  '  I  only  give 

False  fire,  and  would  be  loath  to  shoot  you  off  :  .  /      175 

He  that  wins  empire  with  the  loss  of  faith 

Out-buys  it,  and  will  bankrout ;    you  have  laid  <  ^ 

A  brave  foundation  by  the  hand  of  virtue  ; 

Put  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  ; 

Without  which  fit  assurance,  in  the  greatest — 

As  you  may  see  a  mighty  promontory  190 

More  digg'd  and  under-eaten  than  may  warrant 

A  safe  supportance  to  his  hanging  brows  ; 

All  passengers  avoid  him,  shun  all  ground 

That  lies  within  his  shadow,  and  bear  still 

A  flying  eye  upon  him  :    so  great  men,  195 

Corrupted  in  their  grounds,  and  building  out 


196  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [ACT  V 

Too  swelling  fronts  for  their  foundations, 

When  most  they  should  be  propp'd  are  most  forsaken  ; 

And  men  will  rather  thrust  into  the  storms 

Of  better-grounded  states  than  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'Aum.     How  took  he  this  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,  spherelike, 
Still  moves  about  and  is  the  continent 
To  this  blest  isle'. 


ACTUS    V  SCENA  I 

[A  Room  in  the  Court} 

Enter  Byron,  D'Auvergne,  La  Fin. 

j{'-.^Y'tjA'it   ••/«{•'. I    UtffiJ:    »':->.:'i;3-l'.»''iri!    bnjfc 

Byr.     The  circle  of  this  ambassy  is  clos'd, 
For  which  I  long  have  long'd  for  mine  own  ends, 
To  see  my  faithful,  and  leave  courtly  friends  ; 
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  been  long  time  at  his  manger  tied, 

High  fed,  alone,  and  when,  his  headstall  broken, 

He  runs  his  prison,  like  a  trumpet  neighs, 

Cuts  air  in  high  curvets,  and  shakes  his  head, 

With  wanton  stoppings,  'twixt  his  forelegs,  mocking  10 

The  heavy  centre,  spreads  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  inform'd,  15 

Wliat-Qiir. -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  conspiracy, 

He  first  would  have  you  beg  the  government,  v  20 

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_lie-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'Auv.     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  i>oon  ; 
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  [AcrV 

La  F.  Said  like  your  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'Auv.     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,  Epernon,  Soissons,  Janin 

I  am  become  a  suitor  to  your  Highness. 

Hen.     For  what,  my  lord,   'tis  like  you  shall  obtain.          60 
•.''Byv.     I  do  not  much  doubt  that ;    my  services, 
I  hope,  haveTmore  strength  in  your  good  conceit 
Than  to  receive  repulse  hi  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 ! 

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 
tS  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  which  love  and  trust  honour  is  shame,  no 

i  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  hfly*  hafl 
1   With  my        vr 


Eyr  Misery  of  virtue, 


200  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  V 

111  is  made  good  with  worse  !     This  reason  pours 

Poison  for  balm  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  overthrow,  which  battle  won  for  you.    VS 

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  unthankful  King  ; 

And  show,  commix'd  with  them,  the  joys,  the  glories  135 

Of  his  state  then,  then  his  kind  thoughts  of  me, 

Jhen  my  deservings,  now  my  infamy  : 

Jut  I  will  be  mine  own  king  ;    I  will  see 

'hat  all  your  chronicles  be  fill'd  with  me, 

"hat  none  but  I  and  my  renowned  sire  140 

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  myself  that  won  the  day  at  Dreux 
(A  day  of  holy  name,  and  needs  no  night)  ;  145 

Nor  none  but  I  at  Fountaine  Fran9oise  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  myself  (married  to  victory) 
Did  people  Artois,  Douai,  Picardy, 
Bethune  and  Saint-Paul,  Bapaume  and  Courcelles, 
With  her  triumphant  issue. 

Hen.  Ha,  ha,  ha !          ./       Exit     155 

Byron  drawing  and  ts  held  by  D'Auvergne 
D'Auv.     O  hold,  my  lord  ;    for  my  sake,  mighty  spirit ! 
Exit  [Byron  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. 
Whafs  grave  in  earth,  what  awiul,  what  abhprr'd"!  * 

If  my  rage  be  ridiculous  ?     I  will  make  it   ^     **7*tt±     fc^/7, 
The  law  and  rule  of  all  things  serious.  £ 

So  long  as  idle  and  ridiculous  King[s]  5 

Are  suffer'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,  returneth  never  ; 
Should  kings  cast  off  their  bounties  with  their  dangers  ? 
He  that  can  warm  at  fires  where  Virtue  burns, 
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  all  the  gravest  shapes  of  worth  and  honour, 
For  all  heroic  fashions  to  be  learn'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  ^wnrrl  in  Imi 
(My  blows  as  Put  tne  passages,  of  shadows, 
Over  the  highest  and  most  barren  hills) 
AndTise"  me  liKe  no  man,  but  as  he  took  me 
Into  a  desert,  gasnM  with  aH  my  wounds 

Sustained    for   him,    and    hnriprl    me   ir|    fl^g  ? 

ForfH'.  Vengeancer  thenr  and  open  wound f*  iri  him 
ShaTTlet  in  Spain  and  Savoy.    ^ 

Offers  to  draw  and  D'Auvergne  again  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  wrong  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, 


202  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acr  V 

That  have  subdu'd  for  him  (O  injury  !) 
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 

Front  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 
I  They  ever  were  the  justest  arbitrators, 

^If  none  of  them  contended,  nor  were  parties  :  55 

Those  that  will  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  itself) 
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  sin^  so  _in  your  ears, 
yl  know  lia  no  disease  bred  in  yourself, 
But^whisper'd  in  by  others  ;    who  in  swelling 
Your  veins  with  empty  hope  of  much,  yet  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  203 

[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  embrac'd 
Only  to  burn  him  ;    your  fire  will  be  inward, 
Which  not  another  deluge  can  put  out. 

Byron  kneels  while  the  King  goes  on 

O  Innocence,  the  sacred  amulet  85 

Gainst  all  the  poisons  of  infirmity, 
Of  all  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,  ^    v' 

Fruitful  of  all  best  things  in  all  worst  seasons)      */£  '* 
He  can  with  every  wish  be  in  their  plenty  ;          *3*fcg£&  Hfj    £/    fa 


When  the  infectious  guilt  of  one  foul  crime          jr  ;    \~*j*/   /JvU£/t/ 
Destroys  the  free  content  of  all  our  time.  ***^   /^fls   100   // 

Byr.     'Tis  all  acknowledg'd,  and,  though  all  too  late,         aw  &><»**  *V-, 
Here  the  short  madness  of  my  anger  ends  :  **\    *3t?*i5*>*-* 
ff  ever  I  did  good  \  lock'd  it  safe  "    "* 

In  you,  th'  impregnable  defence  of  goodness;     <"«~f< 
^If  ill,  I  press  it  with  my  penitent  knees  vX  105 

To  that  unsounded  depth  whence  nought  returneth. 

Hen.     'Tis  music  to  mine  ears  ;  rise  then,  for  ever 
Quit  of  what  guilt  soever  till  this  hnnr, 
And  nothing  touch'd  in  honour  or  in  spirit, 
Rise  without  flattery,  rise  by  absolute  merits.  *  IIQ 

Enter  Epernon,  to  the  King,  Byron,  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  been  here,  he  hath  talked  a 
volume  greater  than  the  Turk's  Alcoran  ;  stand  up  close  ;  his  115 
lips  go  still.  [Retiring  with  Byron  and  the  Lords] 


204  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [Acx  V 

Enter  Savoy  with  three  Ladies 

Sav.     Excuse  me,  excuse  me  ;  the  King  has  ye  all. 

ist  Lady.     True  sir,  in  honourable  subjection. 

2nd  Lady.     To  the  which  we  are  bound  by  our  loyalty. 

Sav.     Nay  your  excuse,  your  excuse  !    Intend  me  for  affec-  120 
tion  ;    you  are  all  bearers  of  his  favours,  and  deny  him  not 
your  opposition  by  night. 

$rd  Lady.     You  say  rightly  in  that,  for  therein  we  oppose 
us  to  his  command. 

ist  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. 

ist  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 
exqelfont  and,  nnpn.ra.llqled  CQurtier. 

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. 

ist  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 — 

yd  Lady.     Vouchsafe  him,  vouchsafe  him,  else  there  's  no 
play  in't.  150 

ist  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  should  then 
have  a  long  age,  and  a  merry.  155 

ist  Lady.     I  think  your  Grace  would  play  with  his  army  at 
balloon. 

2nd  Lady.     My  faith,  and  that's  a  martial  recreation  ! 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  205 

yd  Lady.     It  is  next  to  impious  courting. 
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.  ^    Jift/'C^cT^A)       J  0 
ist  Lady.     Your  disparity  is"  believed,  sir.  Jy 

2nd  Lady.     And  'tis  a  piece  of  virtue  to  tell  true.  165      / 

yd  Lady.     God's  me,  the  King  !         [Discovering  Henry] 
Sav.     Well,  I  have  said  nothing  that  may  offend. 
ist  Lady.     Tis  hoped  so. 

2nd  Lady.     If  there  be  any  mercy  in  laughter. 
Sav.     I'll  take  my  leave.     [To  Henry]  170 

After  the  tedious  stay  my  love  hath  made, 
Most  worthy  to  command  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  ?  t^ 
I  entertain  no  presents  but  for  merits, 
Which  I  am  far  from  at  your  Highness'  hands, 
As  being  of  all  men  to  you  the  most  stranger ;  190 

There  is  as  ample  bounty  in  refusing 
As  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  your  advices)  my  design  for  Milan,  200 

I  will  have  no  war  with  the  King  of  Spain 


206  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  [ACT  V 

Unless  his  hopes  prove  weary  of  our  peace ; 

And,  princely  cousin,  it  is  far  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,  Epernon,  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'Aiw.     From  me,  sir  ? 

Ep.  Excuse  me,  sir,  from  you,  I  assure  you  :  here,  sir,  he 
lies  at  the  Lady  Antoinette,  just  thus,  for  the  world,  in  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 !  Let  it  pipe  itself  into 
contempt ;  he  hath  stolen  it  most  feloniously,  and  it  graces 
him  like  a  disease.  245 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  CONSPIRACY  207 

Hen.     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'Auv.     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  ! 

Ep.     A  pox  on  him  ! 

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  Byron  here  well  knows 
That  it  infecteth,  where  it  doth  affect,  265 

And  where  it  seems  to  counsel,  it  conspires. 
With  him  go  all  our  faults,  and  from  us  fly, 
With  all  his  counsel,  all  conspiracy. 

FINIS   ACTUS    QUINTI    ET    ULTIMI 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    CHARLES 
DUKE    OF    BYRON 


CJD.W. 


The  Tragedy  of  Charles  Duke  of  Byron 

DRAMATIS    PERSONAE 


Henry  IV,  King  of  France 
The  Infant  Dauphin 
The  Duke  of  Byron 
D'Auvergne 

The  Spanish  Ambassador 
La  Fin 

The    Vidame    of    Chartres,    his 
nephew 


French  Nobles 


Epernon, 

Soissons, 

Montigny, 

D'Escures- 

Harlay,    -\ 

Potier,      [judges 

Fleury,    J 

Bellievre,  the  Chancellor 

Janin,       a  Minister  of  Henry 

Pralin,  \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  Rooyn  in  the  Court] 

"VS^C^"* 

Henry,  the  Vioame,  D'Escures,  Epernon,  Janin 

tHen.     Byron  fall'n  in  so  trait'rous  a  relapse.  iX 
Alleged  for  our  ingratitude  !     Whjat_of£i£fis, 
Tities  oj^  honour'  and  what  admiration 
CouTcT  b  fanCe  afford  him  that  it  pour'd  not  on  ? 
When  he"   was  SLdTCearriy'd 


^ 

lie  ran  tTlrough~~aTt  chief  dignities  of  France. 
~At  fourteen  years  QJ  age^rie  was  made^  Colonel 
To  ~  all  the  Sulssbs"  serving  then  in  Flandersj 
Soon  alter  he  was  Marshal  of  the  camp, 

Andy  5h6rtly  arter    MaJrsEal  General^  10 

He  was  iticelVeTI  High  Admiral^  of  J^rancg 
In  fliat  our  Parliament  ~welSeld  at  Tours, 
Marshat  'Of  Piaiitt,  1S"fhat  we  held  at  iParis. 
And  at  the  siege  of  Amiens  he  acknowledg'd 
None  his  superior  but  ourself,  the  King  ;  15 

Though  I  had  there  the  Princes  of  the  blood, 
I  made  him  my  Lieutenant-General, 
Declar'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  unbeliev'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 
Now  made  in  Italy  ?     From  whence  should  spring  30 


212  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [ACT  I 

The  warlike  humour  of  the  Count  Fuentes, 

The  restless  stirrings  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy, 

The  discontent  the  Spaniard  entertain'd, 

With  such  a  threatening  fury,  when  he  heard 

The  prejudicial  conditions  35 

Propos'd  him  in  the  treaty  held  at  Vervins, 

And  many  other  braveries  this  way  aiming, 

But  from  some  hope  of  inward  aid  from  hence  ? 

XncT  fEat  all  this  'directly  amis  at  you 

Your  Highness  hath  by  one  intelligence  40 

Good  cause  to  think  ;  which  is  your  late  advice 

That  the  sea  army,  now  prepar'd  at  Naples, 

Hath  an  intended  enterprise  on  Provence  ; 

Although  the  cunning  Spaniard  gives  it  out 

That  all  is  for  Algier. 

Hen.  I  must  believe  45 

That,  without  treason  bred  in  our  own  breasts, 
Spain's  affairs  are  not  in  so  good  estate, 
To  aim  at  any  action  against  France  ; 
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  sudden  ;  nor  without  some  charms 
Of  foreign  hopes  and  flatteries  sung  to  him  : 
But  far  it  flies  my  thoughts  that  such  a  spirit,  55 

So  active,  valiant,  and  vigilant, 
Can  see  itself  transform'd  with  such  wild  furies, 
And  like  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, 
And  knows  he  may  increase  it  to  more  proof 
From  me  than  any  other  foreign  king, 
Should  quite  against  the  stream  of  all  religion, 
Honour,  and  reason,  take  a  course  so  foul,  65 

And  neither  keep  his  oath,  nor  save  his  soul. 
Can  the  poor  keeping  of  a  citadel, 
Which  I  denied  to  be  at  his  disposure,  % 

Make  him  forego  the  whole  strength  of  his  honours  ? 
It  is  impossible  ;  though  the  violence  70 

Of  his  hot  spirit  made  him  make  attempt 
Upon  our  person  for  denying  him, 


Sc.  i]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  213 

Yet  well  I  found  his  loyal  judgment  serv'd 

To  keep  it  from  effect :  besides,  being  offer'd 

Two  hundred  thousand  crowns  in  yearly  pension,  75 

And  to  be  General  of  all  the  forces 

The  Spaniards  had  in  France,  they  found  him  still 

As  an  unmatch'd  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  blood, 

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  uncle  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  tnreai:enrd  ;  and  thatTsacred  ^power  »r 
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  obtain'd,  ^l 
Without  my  personal  service — will  not  see  105 

A  trait 'rous  subject  foil  me,  and  so  end 
What  his  hand  hath  with  such  success  begun. 

Enter  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 

Help,  nurse,  to  put  my  sword  into  his  hand.. 


214  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [ACT  I 

Hold,  boy,  by  this  ;    and  with  it  may  thy  arm 

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,  115 

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,  120 

Be  thine  to  bring  a  calm  upon  the  shore, 

In  which  the  eyes  of  war  may  ever  sleep 

As  overmatch' d  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  govern'd  after  me. 

O  heaven  !     Or  if  th'  unsettled  blood  of  France 

With  ease  and  wealth  renew  her  civil  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]  off  from  Fortune 

Her  feather'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  pass'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— iniendments  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  up. 


^ 


The  King  hath  now  no  more  use  of  my  valour, 

lAnd  therefore  1  snail  now  no  more  enj oy 

(The  "credit  that  my  service  held  wiflTTiim —     *J     ^T^**  £   / 


\ 


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  scarce  aspire  their  ridgy  tops. 

The  world  is  quite  inverted,  Virtue  thrown       ^'' 

At  Vice's  feet,  and  sensual  Peace  confounds  15 

Valour  and  cowardice,  fame  and  infamy  ; 

The  rude  and  terrible  age  is  turn'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  distinguish'd  with  his  definite  bounds, 

Nor  in>his  firm  conversions  were  discern'd 

The  fruitful  distances  of  time  and  place 

In  the  well-varied  seasons  of  the  year  ;  25 

When  th'  incompos'd  incursions  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   y  30 

Will  I  sit  brooding  up  another  world. 

L  who  through  all  the  dangers  that  can  siege 
/The  life  of  man  have  forc'd  my  glorious  way  » 
(    To  the  repairing  of  my  country's  ruins, 
^^Vill  ruin  it  again  to  re-advance  it.  35 

Roman  Camnius  sav'd  tne  state  ol  Rome 

With  far  less  merit  than  Byron  hath  France  ; 

And  how  short  of  this  is  my  recompence. 


216  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acx  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  !   How  learn'd, 

how  wise  ! 

But,  worthy  Prince,  you  must  give  temperate  air 
To  your  unmatch'd  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  impressions ; 
Which  nature  could  not  entertain  with  life 
Without  some  exhalation  ;    a  wrong'd  thought  50 

Will  break  a  rib  of  steel. 

Byr.  My  princely  friend, 

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  wool ; 

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  strengthen  all  our  secret  treaties. 
Instruct  me  therefore,  my  assured  Prince, 

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  you  may  easily  calm,  and  turn  to  grace, 
If  you  beseech  his  Highness  to  believe 
That  your  whole  drift  and  course  for  Italy 
(Where  he  hath  heard  you  were)  was  only  made 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  217 

Out  of  your  long  well-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  you  to  propound  my  marriage 

With  the  third  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy  ;  85 

Which  you  have  done,  and  I  rejected  it, 

Resolv'd  to  build  upon  his  royal  care 

For  my  bestowing,  which  he  lately  vow'd. 

La  F.     O,  you  direct,  as  if  the  God  of  light      ^  tyy 
Sat  in  each  nook  of  you  and  pointed  out  I   *  go 

The  path  of  empire,  charming  all  the  dangers,        s 
On  both  sides  ann'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. 

La  F.     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  with  the  others] 

[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  zeal 
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  confirm'd  that  you  have  heard  before, 
And  amplified  with  many  horrors  more. 


2i8          BYRON'S  TRAGEDY         [ACT  I 

Hen.     Good  de  la  Fin,  you  were  our  golden  plummet        10 
To  sound  this  gulf  of  all  ingratitude  ; 
In 'which  you  have  with  excellent  desert 
Of  loyalty'and  policy  express'd 
Your  name  in__actipn  ;    and  with  such  appearance 
Have  provM  the  parts  of  His "ih'grateful  treasons  15 

That  I  must  credit  more  than  I  desir'd. 

La  F.     I  must  confess,  my  lord,  my  voyages 
Made  to  the  Duke  of  Savoy  and  to  Milan 
Were  with  endeavour  that  the  wars  return'd 
Might  breed  some  trouble  to  your  Majesty, 
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  resolv'd 

To  give  you  full  intelligence  thereof;  \\)i\k   w~  I  25 

And  rather  choos'd  to  fail  in  promises 
Made  to  the  servant  than  infringe  my  fealty   I 
Sworn  to  my  royal  Sovereign  and  master.        J 

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  hath  held 
A  clear  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  counselsTtSr  his  service, 
Would  so  resolve  you,  if  he  will  employ  40 

His  honour'd  valour  as  effectually 
To  fortify  the  state  against  your  foes 
As  he  hath  practis'd  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          . 
From  the  sweet  poison  of  his  friendlike  foes  :     /  50 

Treason  hath  blister 'd  heels  ;    dishonest  things 
Have  bitter  rivers,  though  delicious  springs. 


Sc.  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  follow'd 

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  will,  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^ioublet  I  will  have  them  sew'd, 
Without  discovering  them  loTHtaerUwn  eyes 
Till  need  or  opportunity  requires.  80 

Hen.     You  shall  do  well,  my  lord,  they  are  of  weight ; 
But  I  am  doubtful  that  his  conscience 
Will  make  him  so  suspicious  of  the  worst 
That  he  will  hardly  be  indue 'd  to  come. 

Jan,     I  much  should  doubt  that  too,  but  that  I  hope         85 
The  strength  of  his  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  turn'd  to  no  bad  end  ;  90 

And,  good  La  Fin,  I  pray  you  write  to  him 
To  hasten  his  repair,  and  make  him  sure 


220  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 

La  F.     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. 

Exit  Janin 


[ACTUS    II 
*JA^  A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  Epernon,  Soissons,  Vitry,  Pralin,  etc.  [to  the  King] 

Ep.     Will't  please  your  Majesty  to  take  your  place  ? 
The  Masque  is  coming. 

Hen.  Room,  my  lords  ;    stand  close. 

\  J 

Music  and  a  song  above,  and  Cupid  enters  with  a  table  written 
hung  about  his  neck  ;  after  him  two  torch-bearers  ;  after 
them  Marie,  D'Entragues,  and  four  ladies  more  with  their 
torch-bearers,  etc. 
Cupid  speaks. 

Cup.     My  lord,  these  nymphs,  part  of  the  scatter'd  train 
Of  friendless  Virtue  (living  in  the  woods 

Of  shady  Arden,  and  of  late  not  hearing  5 

The  dreadful  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  Sophrosyne, 
Or  Chastity,  this  other  Dapsile, 


\ 


Sc.  i]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  221 

Or  Liberality  ;    their  emulation 

Begat  a  jar,  which  thus  was  reconcil'd. 

I  (having  left  my  Goddess  mother's  lap,  20 

To  hawk  and  shoot  at  birds  in  Arden  groves) 

Beheld  this  princely  nymph  with  much  affection, 

Left  killing  birds,  and  turn'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, 

Compar'd  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  follow'd  birds  again  from  tree  to  tree, 

Kill'd  and  presented,  and  she  kindly  took. 

But  when  she  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  [AcxII 

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  speaks 

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  inscrib'd.  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. 

What's  that  a  fair  lady  most  of  all  likes, 
Yet  ever  makes  show  she  least  of  all  seeks  : 

That's  ever  embrac'd  and  affected  by  her,  90 

Yet  never  is  seen  to  please  or  come  nigh  her  : 
Most  serv'd  in  her  night-weeds,  does  her  good  in  a  corner  : 
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  iSL^&QgdLJ[?Ule- 
\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  granted.  100 

Ep.     '  Yet  ever  makes  show  she  least  of  all  seeks  '  :  for  she 
likes  it  only  for  virtue,  which  is  not  glorious. 

Hen.     That  holds  well. 

Ep.     'Tis  '  ever  embrac'd  and  affected  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 ! 

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  corner  ' — 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  all  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,  and  prepare  130 

To  entertam.jpyx.  trusty  friend  Byron.  Exeunt 

FINIS    ACTUS    SECUNDI 


ACTUS  III  SCENA  I 

[At  Dijon] 

Enter  Byron,  D'Auvergne 
Byr.     Dear  friend,  we  must  not  be 
Than  kings  arc  to  their  subjects  ;    there  are  schools 
Now  broken  ope  in  all  parts  of  the  world, 


224  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acx  III 

First  founded  in  ingenious  Italy, 

Where  some  conclusions  ol  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  right  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,  stern  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  with  religion 


Sc.  i]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  225 

Fore-runners  of  afflictions  imminent, 

Which  (like  a  Chorus)  subjects  must  lament. 

D'Auv.     My  lord,  I  stand  not  on  these  deep  discourses 
To  settle  my  course  to  your  fortunes  ;  mine 
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! 

Byr.  Welcome,  D'Escures  !     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  ^^       tj         __ 
The  body  of  an  army  on  those  parts,       f^V^'i*^*  ~/^.l>/    ' 
And  yield  their  worthy  ccmduct  to  your  valour. 

Byr.     From  whence  hears  he  that  any  storms  jire  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 

All  which  shall  be  commanded  to  attend 
On  your  direction,  as  the  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.  o 


226  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acx  III 

That  when  the  enemy  is  t'  attempt  his  frontiers 
He  calls  me  from  the  frontiers  ;  does  ^  bethink 
It  is  an_jiction  worthy^  of 


icon  wory^  o    my^vujr 

y  back  to  an  approaching  foe  ?  tX  85 

The  foe  is  noT  so  near  but     ou  ma     come, 


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  anything  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  all  my  service 
Makes  me  know  anything  :  beseech  him,  therefore,  165 

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  this  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.  1^5 

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  f awnings  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  policy  ; 
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  ad  vane 'd  the  trophies  of  his  valour  ; 
Where  I,  in  those  assumptions,  may  scorn  140 

And  speak  contemptuously  of  all  the  world, 
For  any  equal  yet  I  ever  found  ; 
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  Alcides-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  urge  me,  I  may  pluck  him  out.  155 

Enter  Messenger 

Mes.     Here  is  the  President  Janin,  my  lord, 
Sent  from  the  King,  and  urgeth  quick  access. 

Byr.     Another  pursuivant,  and  one  so  quick  ? 
He  takes  next  course  with  me  to  make  him  stay  : 
But  let  him  in,  let's  hear  what  he  importunes.  160 


228  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acx  III 

[Exit  La  Brunei],  enter  Janin 

Jan.     Honour  and  loyal  hopes  to  Duke  Byron  ! 

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  170 

(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  your  breath 
Than  in  your  heart.     Truth  is  not  made  of  glass, 
That  with  a  small  touch  it  should  fear  to  break,  180 

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  designs —  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.  I  rely 

On  no  man's  back  nor  belly ;  but  the  King         ;>f(j  m^\    195 
Must  think  that  merit,  by  ingratitude  crack'd, 
Requires  a  firmer  cementing  than  words. 
And  he  shall  find  it  a  much  harder  work, 
To  solder  broken  hearts  than  shiver'd  glass. 


Sc.  i]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  229 

Jan.    My  lord,  'tis  better  hold  a  Sovereign's  lov«  .  _„.  .200 
By  bearing  injuries,  than  by  laying  out 
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  rai&ji  beneath  his  vapour  : 
When  suddenly,  the  fowl  that  hawk'd  so  fair,  .      ___  J  -__2JO 
Stoops  in  a  puddle,  or  consumes  hi  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^aJl  foreign  Jongs, 
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  !  225 

Exit  Janin 

Enter  La  Brunei 

Byr.     Farewell  to  you  ! 
Captain,  what  other  news  ? 

LaBrun.  La  Fin  salutes  you.     [Giving  letters] 

Byr.     Welcome,  good  friend  ;    I  hope  your  wish'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.  jD'Auvergne  ;   our  trusty  friend  Tf^  fin 
rule 


Hath_clear'd  all  scruple  jyyjth  frfo  Majesty, 

And  utter'd  nothing  tfut  what  aery'd  to  clear  235 

AIL  bad  suggestions.**-"" 

La  Brun.  So  he  says,  my  lord  ; 


230  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [ACT  III 

But  others  say  La  Fin's 

Are  mere  deceits,  am 

That,  when  jhe. 

Met  you  at  Autun  to  assure  your  flfl^hts  240 

His  uncle  had  said  nothing  tn  - 


That  might  offend  you,  all  the  journey's  charge 
The  King,  defrav'd  :  Sesides.  your 
WuTd  me  to  make  you  rprt(aip 


Of  government  is  ptherwjnn  fliTip^n'ri  ',  245 

And  all  advise  you,  for  your  latest  hope. 
To_  make  retreat  into  the  Franche-ComttL.  ^ 

Byr.     I  thank  them  all,  but  they  touch  not  the  depth 
Of  the  affairs  betwixt  La  Fin  and  me, 

Who  is  return'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  ?     IJjnpw  all  the  Courft 
Have  better  Itpprehension  of  my  valour  ^ 
Than  that  they  dare  lay  violent  hands  on  me  ; 
If  a  I  Jiave  only  means  to  draw  this  sworo^ 
I  shall  have  power  enougn  to  set  me  free  260 

From  seizure  by  my  proudest  enemy.  ^ 

Exit  [Byron  with  the  others] 


[SCENA    II 

A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  Epernon,  Vitry,  Pralin 

Ep.    He  will  not  come,  I  dare  engage  my  hand. 

Vit.     He  will  be  fetch'd  then,  I'll  engage  my  head. 

Prd.     Come,  or  be  fetch'd,  he  quite  hath  lost  his  honour 
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  ancl  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  fireat  in  gifl-f  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  honour'd  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  3  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  ! 
Falls  to  his  viands  with  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  show'd  them  how  I  never  sought  to  build  45 

More  forts  for  me  than  were  within  their  hearts, 
Nor  use  more  stern  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  [Acx  III 


L  that  my  treasury  should,  fl 

"With  gvto.  &ajfc/^vum  in,  in  my  subjects'  tears  ;  _.  _  T 

»4&ft$i  ^te1  J  jjound  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  ! 

Enter  Byron,  D'Auvergne,  brother,  with  others 

Ep.  O  madness,  he  is  come  ! 

Chan.     The  Duke  is  come,  my  lord. 

Hen.  Oh  sir,  y'are  welcome, 

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,       f 
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  still  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  truth  of  loyalty, 
When,  since  I  pardon'd  foul  intentions 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  233 

(Resolving  to  forget  eternally 

What  they  appear' d  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^Jjceast,  *^x" 
If  I  stanoT  guilty  of  the  slencf'resF  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  no 

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,  far,  from  mixture  with  our  fears,  115 

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,  120 

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  Epernon  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 


234  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acx  IV 

Byr.     [To  Epernon]  How  like  you  my  arrival  ? 

Ep.     I'll  tell  you  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  Court} 

Byron,  D'Auvergne 

Byr .     O  the  most  base  fruits  of  a  settled  peace  !     /* 
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  than  when  cruel  war 
Frighted  from  thence  the  sweaty  labourer  ; 
But  men  themselves,  instead  of  bearing  fruits, 
Grow  rude  and  foggy,  overgrown  with  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  lie,  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  doth  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  !  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  turn'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  their  faults. 

Enter  Soissons 

Byr.     Yet  here's  one  views  me,  and  I  think  will  speak. 

Sots.     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,  miserably  guilty  ;  45 

But  he  is  most  loath  (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  hi  myself,  since  their  deserts 
Are  far  from  such  a  deluge,  and  in  me 
Hid  like  so  many  rivers  in  the  sea.  65 

Sot's.     You  think  I  come  to  sound  you  :    fare  you  well. 

Exit 


236  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acr  IV 

Enter  Chancellor,  Epernon,    Janin,   the  Vidame,   Vitry,    Pralin, 
whispering  by  couples,  etc. 

D'Auv.     See,  see,  not  one  of  them  will  cast  a  glance      */ 
At  our  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  shall  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      j 
After  their  markets,  kept  beneath  the  State  ; 
Lord,  what  foul  weather  their  aspects  do  threaten  ! 
See  in  how  grave  a  brake  he  sets  his  vizard  ; 
Passion  of  nothing,  see,  an  excellent  gesture  !  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  ! 
D'Auv.     He  cast  no  beam  on  you. 

Byr.  Why,  now  you  see 

From  whence  their  countenances  were  copied. 


Enter  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  friend  of  yours. 

Byr.     'Tis  welcome,  then. 

D'Auv.  Have  we  yet  any  friends  ? 

Cap.     More  than  ye  would,  J  think  ;    I  never  saw 
Men  in  their  right  minds  so  unrighteous 
In  their  own  causes. 

Byr.  [showing  the  letter]     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  you  ? 
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.  no 

Byr.     Why,  dost  thou  think  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  all  your  servants,  or  yourself, 
That  flew  about,  and  on  your  shoulder  sat, 
And  which  you  had  so  fed  and  so  attended 
For  that  dumb  love  she  show'd  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,  confirms  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 
(In  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  suffer'd  death  (being  well  the  night  before), 

Died  in  his  pasture.     Noble,  hippy  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  compar'd  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 

Another  Room  in  the  Court] 
Enter  Henry,  Chancellor,  the  Vidame,   Janin,  Vitry,   Pralin 

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  yield  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  10 

Sav'd  him  from  death  ;    I  drew  him  off  the  foe 
At  Fountaine  Francoise,  where  he  was  engag'd, 
So  wounded,  and  so  much  amaz'd  with  blows, 
That,  as  I  play'd  the  soldier  in  his  rescue, 

was  enforc'd  to  play  the  Marshal  15 

To  order  the  retreat,  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  persuasions  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    w/ 
You  cannot  bring  into  the  state  of  safety. 

Jan.     Begin  at  th'  end,  my  lord,  and  execute, 
Like  Alexander  with  Parmenio.  30 

Princes,  you  know,  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. 

Hen.     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. 

Vit.     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  apprehension 
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  all  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  [Acr  IV 

Hen.  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  {all  but  Henry] 

Hen.     O  Thou  that  govern'st  the  keen  swords  of  kings, 
Direct  my  arm  in  this  important  stroke, 

Or  hold  it  being  ad  vane '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  affrights, 
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  born  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  dark  75 

That  it  denies  access  to  sun  and  moon  ; 
The  soul's  eye  sharpen'd  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,  So 

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,  Epernon,  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  ! 

[Exit  D'Auvergne] 

Queen.  What's  that  ? 

Byr.  I  heard  him  not. 

Hen.     Madam,  y'are  honour'd  much  that  Duke  Byron 
Is  so  observant :  some  to  cards  with  him ; 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  241 

You  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,  Epernon  and  Montigny  play  at  cards] 

Ep.     Lift,  and  then  cut. 

Byr.  'Tis  right  the  end  of  lifting ; 

When  men  are  Uftgd_to  their  highest  pitch, 
They  cut  off  those  that  lifted  them  so  high.  100 

Queen.     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.     Pass ! 

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  well. 

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  all  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 

C.D.W.  R 


242  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acx  IV 

To  teach  the  rapeful  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  religion, 

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  employ'd  it  145 

To  propagate  his  empire  ;    and  his  empire 
Desir'd  t'  extend  so  that  he  might  withal 
Extend  religion  through  it,  and  all  nations 
Reduce  to  one  firm  constitution 

Of  piety,  justice,  and  one  public  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  deceas'd 
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  resolv'd  ;    a  work  shall  now  be  done,  165 

Which,  while  learn'd  Atlas  shall  with  stars  be  crown'd, 
While  th'  Ocean  walks  in  storms  his  wavy  round, 
While  moons,  at  full,  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  ! 

Will  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  himself. 
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  lie. 

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.     I  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.     All  this,  my  lord,  to  me  is  [mystery]. 

Hen.     It  is  ?     I'll  make  it  plain  enough,  believe  me  !       195 
Come,  my  Lord  Chancellor,  let  us  end  our  mate. 

Enter  Varennes,  whispering  to  Byron 
Var.     You  are  undone,  my  lord.      Exit 
Byr.  Is  it  possible  ? 

Queen.     Play,  good  my  lord  :    whom  look  you  for  ? 
Ep-  Your  mind 

Is  not  upon  your  game. 


244  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acr  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  Byron 

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  continu'd  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  all  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  than  my  tongue  hath  utter' d. 

Hen.  Would  'twere  true  ! 

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 !       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,   Epernon,   the 

Vidame,  following.     Vitry  lays  hand  on  Byron's  sword.  Ofn,,  j 

Vit.     Resign  your  sword,  my  lord  ;  the  King  commands  it. 

Byr.     Me  to  resign  my  sword  ?     What  king  is  he  230 

Hath  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  flourishing  peace  I  235 

My  sword,  that  never  enemy  could  enforce, 
Bereft  me  by  my  friends  !     Now,  good  my  lord, 
Beseech  the  King  I  may  resign  my  sword 
To  his  hand  only. 

Enter  Janin 

Jan.     [To  Vitry]     You  must  do  your  office, 
The  King  commands  you. 

Vit.  '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  honour 
To  die  defending  of  my  innocent  self, 
And  have  some  little  space  to  pray  to  God. 

Enter  Henry    ^£ 

Hen.     Come,  you_are__aiL_aJfchei§t,  Byron,  and  a  traitor     250 
Both  foul  and  damnable.     Thy  innocent  self  ! 
No  leper  is  so  buried  quick  in  ulcers  ~" 
As  thy  corrupted  soul.     Thou  end  the  war, 
And  settle  peace  in  France  !     What  war  hath  rag'd 
Into  whose  fury  I  have  not  expos'd  255 

My  person  [with]  as  free  a  spirit  as  thine  ? 
Thy  worthy  father  and  thyself  combin'd 
And  arm'd  in  all  the  merits  of  your  valours, 
Your  bodies  thrust  amidst  the  thickest  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  marshall'd — 
I  am  asham'd  to  brag  thus  ;    [but]  where  Envy 
And  Arrogance  their  opposite  bulwark  raise, 
Men  are  allow'd  to  use  their  proper  praise.  265 

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  27/0 

The  anvil  on  which  only  blows  and  wounds 

Were  made  the  seed  and  wombs  of  others'  honours ; 

A  property  for  a  tyrant  to  set  up 

And  puff  down  with  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  !    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  !     O  that  in  mine  eyes 
Were  all  the  sorcerous  poison  of  my  woes 

That  I  might  witch  ye  headlong  from  your  height,  285 

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  !  290 

[Exit  Byron  guarded] 

Ep.     Farewell  for  ever  !    So  have  I  discern'd 
An  exhalation  that  would  be  a  star 
Fall,  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,  Pralin,  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 ; 
Hadst  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. 

Exit  [guarded] 


Sc.  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  v'  3°5 

With  weakness  to  endure  ;    all  popular  gifts 
Are  colours  [that]  will  bear  no  vinegar, 
And  rather  to  adverse  affairs  betray 
Thine  arm  against  them  :    his  state^s&jJLJs^best 
T$a.\  hath  most  jr^yfl  ™SS£g?    M1  thitfifrpt  *~"^  3IQ 

That  neither  glories,  nor  is  glorified.  Exeunt 


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 
Count  Maurice  being  already  enter'd  Brabant 
To  pass  to  Flanders,  to  relieve  Ostend, 
And  th'  Archduke  full  prepar'd  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. 

Sois.  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  thrusting  on  Byron's  conspiracy) 
Hath  caus'd  these  cunning  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  [Acx  V 

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  resolv'd, 
He  prays  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  Byron, 
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  Count  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  shall  not  make  me  break  the  commerce 


Sc.  i]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  249 

Authoris'd  by  our  treaties ;    let  your  army 
Take  the  directest  pass  ;    it  shall  go  safe. 

Amb.     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  apprehend, 
Shall  nought  discomfort  our  impartial  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,  on  the  other  part,  the  Duke  Byron,  105 


250  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [ACT  V 

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 


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  fares  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  130 

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  men, 
His  beams  diffus'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  them  quite. 

•    Exeunt 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  251 

[SCENA    II 

The  Golden  Chamber  in  the  Palace  of  Justice] 

Enter  the  Chancellor,  Harlay,  Potier,  Fleury,  in  scarlet  gowns, 
La  Fin,  D'Escures,  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  off.  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 

Conducted  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,  clear  the  place ! 

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      jX" 
Was  chief  in  his  discovery  ;    which,  as  yet, 
I  think  he  doth  not  doubt. 

La  F.  I  will  forbear 

Till  your  good  pleasures  call  me.  Exit  La  Fin 

Har.  When  he  knows,  20 

And  sees  La  Fin  accuse  him  to  his  face, 
The  Court  I  think  will  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  !   Where  the  greatest  kings 
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 


'25*  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [AcrV 

Whose  parts  were  worth  my  imitation  ; 

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  (-j 

Against  my  life,  dismay  my  valour  more  40 

Than  all  the  bloody  cassocks  Spain  hath  brought 

To  field  against  it. 

Vit.  To  the  bar,  my  lord ! 

He  salutes  and  stands  to  the  bar 

Har.     Read  the  indictment! 

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  you. 

1.  First  you  conferr'd  with  one,  call'd  Picote, 
At  Orleans  born,  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  Saint  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  realm. 

Byr.     All  this,  my  lord,  I  answer,  and  deny. 
And  first  for  Picote  :    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  Fortune,  for  the  reduction 

Of  Seurre  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,        t    . 

And  I  myself  would  go  to  the  assault.  .   :;    . 

5.  And  lastly,  for  intelligences  held  100 
With  Savoy  and  Fuentes,  I  confess 

That  being  denied  to  keep  the  citadel, 

Which  with  incredible  peril  I  had  got, 

And  seeing  another  honouf'd  with  my  spoils, 

I  grew  so  desperate  that  I  found  my  spirit  105 

Enrag'd  to  any  act,  and  wish'd  myself 

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  will 

To  rack  my  furious  humour  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  [ACT  V 

And  therefore  your  informers  have  been  false, 
And,  with  intent  to  tyrannize,  suborn'd. 

Fleu.     What  if  our  witnesses  come  face  to  face,  115 

And  justify  much  more  than  we  allege  ? 

Byr.     They  must  be  hirelings,  then,  and  men  corrupted. 

Pot.     What  think  you  of  La  Fin  ! 

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  Fin 

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.  I  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  and  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  world,  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  to  do,  and  like  a  loathsome  wen 
Sticks  to  the  face  of  nature  and  this  Court : 


Sc.  2]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  255 

Thicken  this  air,  and  turn  your  plaguy  rage 

Into  a  shape  as  dismal  as  his  sin  ;  150 

And  with  some  equal  horror  tear  him  off 

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  break  the  law, 

AndTyjPEhat  witdrTCTMCTMl  MB!1  ¥Tef  me'  draw 

Poison  into"  me  with  this  cursea  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  die, 

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  anything 
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.  185 

Virtue_Jn  great  men  must  be  small  and^slight,     / 

For  poor  stars  rule  where  she  is  exquisite.          \* 

'Tis  tyrannous  aria  impious  policy 

To  put  to  death  by  fraud  and  treachery  ; 

Sleight  is  then  royal  when  it  makes  men  live  190 

And  if  it  urge  faults,  urgeth  to  forgive. 


256  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acx  V 

He  must  be  guiltless  that  condemns  the  guilty. 

Like  things  do  nourish  like,  and  not  destroy  them  ; 

Minds  must  be  sound  that  judge  affairs  of  weignt, 

And  seeing  hands  cut  corrosives  from  your  sigrrt.  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  you  wish  her  weigh 

My  valour  with  the  hiss  of  such  a  viper  ?  200 

What  I  have  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  reserv'd  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  yet  again  210 

For  you  and  yours  ;  this  hand,  that  writ  the  lines 

Alleg'd  against  me,  hath  enacted  still 

More  good  than  there  it  only  talk'd  of  ill. 

I  must  confess  my  choler  hath  transferr'd 

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  disjoin'd, 

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  r 

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, 

Syria,  Albania,  and  Iberia, 

Conquer' d  th'  Hyrcanians,  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  earth's  globe,  by  power  and  his  advice, 

The  round-eyed  Ocean  saw  him  victor  thrice. 

And  what  shall  let  me,  but_your  cruel  doom, 

To  add  as"  much to  France.^as^  he  jbo  Rome. 

And,  tcTTeave  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  Saturnals  of  the  League 

Had  hurl'd  ye  headlong  ;  do  ye  then  return 

This  retribution  ?  Can  the  cruel  King, 

The  kingdom,  laws,  and  you,  all  sav'd  by  me, 

Destroy  their  saver  ?  What,  ay  me  I  I  did 

Adverse   to   this,   tTiia  ja.mnf(t  i^rfaanter  Hi/1      ^*-fl 

That  took  into  his  wffl  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  ! 

Torn  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 ! 

Exit  Vitry  and  Byron 

Hay.     You  likewise  may  depart.  Exit  La  Fin 

Chan.  What  resteth  now         275 

C.D.W.  s 


258  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [ACT  V 

To  be  decreed  gainst  this  great  prisoner  ? 

A  mighty  merit  and  a  monstrpusȣrime 

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  examin'd,  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  Bastile] 

Enter  Byron,  Epernon,  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  uttermost  improvements ; 


Sc.  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  tribunal, 

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  ! 

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  delivery 
Of  his  set  speeches  ;  shall  I  play  his  part  ? 
Ep.     For  heaven's  sake,  good  my  lord  ! 
Byr.  I  will,  i'  faith  ! 

'  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  majestate,  sought  a  lease 

Of  plus  quam  satis.     A  man  that  vi  et  armis  30 

Assail' d  the  King,  and  would  per  fas  et  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  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  all  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  aerial  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  [Acx  V 

Yet  then  again  recovering  heat  and  lightness, 

Again  they  are  ad  vane 'd,  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  King  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  ! 
How  like  a  cure,  by  mere  opinion, 

It  works  upon  our  blood  !  Like  th'  ancient  gods 

Are  modern  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  they  pass'd  in  power,  surpass'd  in  right ; 

When  kings'  wills  pass,  the  stars  wink  and  the  sun 

Suffers  eclipse  ;  rude  thunder  yields  to  them  65 

His  horrid  wings,  sits  smooth  as  glass  eng[l]az'd  ; 

And  lightning  sticks  'twixt  heaven  and  earth  amaz'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  ! 

Byr.     What  sounds  are  these,  my  lord  ?  Hark,  hark,  me- 
thinks 

1  hear  the  cries  of  people  ! 

Ep.  'Tis  for  one,  75 

Wounded  in  fight  here  at  Saint  Anthony's  gate  : 

Byr.     'Sfoot,  one  cried  '  the  Duke ' !     I  pray  harken 
Again,  or  burst  yourselves  with  silence — no  I 
What  countryman's  the  common  headsman  here  ? 

Sois.     He's  a  Burgonian. 

Byr.  The  great  devil  he  is !  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  Ushers  bare,  Chancellor,  Harlay,  Potier,  Fleury, 
Vitry,  Pralin,  with  others 

O  then  I  am  but  dead, 

Now,  now  ye  come  all  to  pronounce  my  sentence. 
I  am  condemn'd  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  condemn'd  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  more  than  I, 
And  would  to  God  your  great  misdeeds  had  been  120 


262  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acx  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  labour' d  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  with  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  ! 

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  refus'd  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, 


Sc.  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  ! 

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  ! 

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.     I  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  ! 

Exeunt 
Manent  Epernon,  Soissons,  Janin,  the  Vidame,  D'Escures 

Ep.     Oh  of  what  contraries  consists  a  man  ! 
Of  what  impossible~niixtures  !  Vice  and  virtue,  190 

Corruj^Ho"n7~gnd  eternnesse,  at  one  time, 
And  in  one  subject,  let  together  loose  ! 
We  have  not  any  strength  but  weakens  us, 
No  greatness  but  doth  crush  us  into  air. 

Our  knowledges  do  light  us  but  to  err,  195 

Our  ornaments  are  burthens,  our  delights 
Are  our  tormenters,  fiends  that,  rais'd  in  fears, 
At  parting  shake  our  roofs  about  our  ears. 

Sen's.     O  Virtue,  thou  art  now  far  worse  than  Fortune  ; 
Her  gifts  stuck  by  the  Duke  when  thine  are  vanish'd,         200 
Thou  brav'st  thy  friend  in  need  :  Necessity, 


264  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acx  V 

That  used  to  keep  thy  wealth,  Contempt,  thy  love, 

Have  both  abandon' d  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,  burns, 
And  turn  his  vicious  fury  to  thy  flame 

From  all  earth's  hopes  mere  gilded  with  thy  fame  :  210 

Let  Piety  enter  with  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  unarm'd, 
Abhors  his  fury,  and  with  doubtful  eyes 
Views  on  what  ground  it  should  sustain  his  ruins; 
(And  as  a  savage  boar  that  (hunted  long, 

Assail'd  and  set  up)  with  his  only  eyes  230 

Swimming  in  fire,  keeps  off  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  his  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 

[Exeunt} 


Sc.  4]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  265 

[SCENA  IV 

The   Courtyard  of  the   Bastile.     A    Scaffold} 
Enter  Chancellor,  Harlay,  Potier,  Fleury,  Vitry,  [Pralin] 

Vit.     Will  not  your  lordship  have  the  Duke  distinguish'd 
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  suffer'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  offer  it.  10 

Pot.  My  lord,  by  this 

The  prisoner's  spirit  is  something  pacified, 
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  15 

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'll  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  will  cast  her  off. 


266  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acx  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,  .an"3. broken  sleeps  ; 

A  t^anny,'' devising  pains  to  plague 

And  make  man  long  in  dying,  racks  his  death  ; 

And  Death  is  nothing  ;  what  can  you  say  more  ? 

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  1          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  days  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  lighted  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  ! 

Har.     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  your  powerful  dooms  ! 

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  ! 
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 

Har.  [reads  the  sentence]  '  The  process  being  extraordinarily 
made  and  examined  by  the  Court  and  Chambers  assembled ' 

Byr.     Condemn'd  for  depositions  of  a  witch, 
The  common  deposition,  and  her  whore 

To  all  whorish  perjuries  and  treacheries  !  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  you,  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 
Byton  of  high  treason,  for  his  direct  conspiracies  against  the 
King's  person,  enterprises  against  his  state ' 

Byr.     That  is  most  false  !  Let  me  for  ever  be 
Depriv'd  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  all  his  estates,  honours,  and  dignities, 
and  condemned  him  to  lose  his  head  upon  a  scaffold  at  the 
Greve 

Byr.     The  Grdve  ?  Had  that  place  stood  for  my  dispatch 


268  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acx  V 

I  had  not  yielded  ;  all  your  forces  should  not 

Stir  me  one  foot,  wild  horses  should  have  drawn  115 

My  body  piecemeal  ere  you  all  had  brought  me. 

Har .  [reading]  '  Declaring  all  his  goods,  moveable  and  im- 
moveable,  whatsoever,  to  be  confiscate  to  the  King  ;  the  Seigneury 
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  you  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 !     [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  lord.  Exit 

Byr.  Go,  go  !     Can  all  go  thus, 

And  no  man  come  with  comfort  ?     Farewel^_world  ! 
If  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  valleys  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  burn  them  bare  ; 


Sc.  4]  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  269 

Not  valleys'  part,  but  we  should  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  ;  will'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  1     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, 
'Tis  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  1 

Byr.  Where's  that  ? 

Hangman.     There,  there,  my  lord ! 

Byr.  And  where,  slave,  is  that  there  ? 

Thou  seest  I  see  not,  yet  speak['st]  as  I  saw. 
Well,  now  is't  fit  ? 

Hangman.  Kneel,  I  beseech  your  Grace, 

That  I  may  do  mine  office  with  most  order.  180 

Byr.     Do  it,  and  if  at  one  blow  thou  art  short, 


270  BYRON'S  TRAGEDY  [Acr  V 

Give  one  and  thirty,  I'll  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  hah*. 

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.  1 90 

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, 
Hell  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 !  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  shrinks  ;  "? 

If  he  were  clear  it  would  ;  and  I  say  more, 
Clear,  or  not  clear,  if  he  with  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,  this,  this,  in  merit 
Should  hoise  the  other  minion  into  air. 

Vit.     Hence  with  that  frantic ! 

Byr.  This  is  some  poor  witness 

That  my  desert  might  have  outweigh'd  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  ever!     Never  more  245 

Shall  any  hope  of  my  revival  see  me  ; 
Such  is  the  endless  exile  of  dead  men. 
Summer  succeeds  the  Spring  ;  Autumn  the  Summer  ; 
The  frosts  of  Winter  the  fall'n  leaves  of  Autumn  : 
All  these  and  all  fruits  in  them  yearly  fade,  250 

And  every  year  return  :  but  cursed  man 
Shall  never  more  renew  his  vanish'd  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  pour'd  down  from  your  clearest  heavens  ; 
Fall  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 ! 

FINIS 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 
ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE. 


C.D.W. 


<( 

• 
^ 

%e 


DRAMATIS 

Francis  I,  King  of  France 
Philip     Chabot,     Admiral     of 

France 
Montmorency,       Lord        High 

Constable 

Poyet,  Lord  Chancellor 
Treasurer 
Secretary 
The  Proctor-General,  or  Advo 

cate 
Two  Judges 


PERSONAE 

A   Notary 

The  Father-in-law  of  Chabot 
Asall,     a    gentleman-in-waiting 
Allegre,  a  servant  of  Chabot 
A  Courtier 

The  Captain  of  the  Guard 
Officers,  Ushers,  Guards,   Peti 
tioners,  and  Courtiers 

The  Queen 

The  Wife  of  Chabot 

' 


274 


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  France, 
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  strength 
To  raise  his  spring,  and  blow  the  other's  fall. 

A  I.     The  world  would  wish  it  so,  that  will  not  patiently 
Endure  the  due  rise  of  a  virtuous  man.  10 

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  ? 

Al.  I  wonder  you 

Will  question  it ;    ask  a  ground  or  reason  1 5 

Of  men  bred  in  this  vile,  degenerate  age  ! 
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  privileg'd  by  name  of  frailty, 


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  !  30 

I  ask  your  pardon,  sir,  but  thinks  your  judgment 
His  love  to  justice  and  corruption's  hate 
Are  true  and  hearty  ? 

A  I.  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  bill,  45 

And  would  do,  were  he  for't  to  be  torn  in  pieces. 

As.     'Tis  brave,  I  swear! 

A  I.  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'  livings  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  ? 

A  I.     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  right  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  all  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  ? 

A  I.     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  fire  ; 

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. 

A  I.     'Tis  nobly  argued  and  exemplified  ; 
But  now  I  hear  my  lord  and  his  young  rival 
Are  to  be  reconcil'd,  and  then  one  light  no 


278  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT          [Acx  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  dispatch'd,  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  joyful  imitation,  all  combining 
A  Gordian  beyond  the  Phrygian  knot, 
Past  wit  to  loose  it,  or  the  sword  ;    be  still  so.  120 

Treas.     'Tis  certain,  sir,  by  concord  least  things  grow 
Most  great  and  flourishing  like  trees,  that  wrap 
Their  forehead  in  the  skies  ;    may  these  do  so  ! 

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. 

Chab.     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  it! 

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  affects  him  that  he  shuns  and  flies  it  ? 
What's  the  strange  reason  that  he  will  not  rise 
Above  the  middle  region  he  was  born  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  ; 
Ar»d  though  he  nothing  cares  for  seeming,  so 
His  being  just  stand  firm  'twixt  heaven  and  him,  45 


Sc.  I]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  279 

Yet  since  in  his  soul's  jealousy  he  fears 

That  he  himself  ad  vane 'd  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  you !  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  privileg'd  policy, 
And  will  succeed  betwixt  you  and  the  Admiral, 
As  sure  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  ICing'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  ? 


280  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Acr  I 

Chan.     'Tis  he,  not  you,  that  break. 
Treas.  Ha'  not  you  patience 

To  let  him  burn  himself  in  the  King's  flame  ?  180 

Chan.     Come,  be  not,  sir,  infected  with  a  spice 
Of  that  too  servile  equity,  that  renders 
Men  free-born  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  policy  and  nature  : 
And  therefore  our  soul  motion  is  afnrm'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  o'erflowing, 
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.  220 


Sc.  i]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  281 

Sec.     A  name  to  fright,  and  terrify  young  statists. 
There  is  necessity,  my  lord,  that  you 
Must  lose  your  light,  if  you  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  your  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  you  boundless  ;    turn  not  edge  at  such  230 

A  liberty,  but  look  to  your  own  fortune  ; 
Secure  your  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  mounts  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  affectation. 

Chan.     Why  so  !     We  shall  do  good  on  him  i'  th'  end. 

Exeunt 


[SCENA  II 
Another  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  Father  and  the  Admiral 

Chab.     You  are  most  welcome. 

Path.  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, 

Path.     But,  fortified  with  new  and  pregnant  reasons, 
That  you  should  leave  the  court. 

Chab.  I  dare  not,  sir. 

Path.     You  dare  be  undone,  then. 

Chab.  I  should  be  ingrateful 

To  such  a  master,  as  no  subject  boasted. 


282  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Acr  I 

To  leave  his  service  [s]  when  they  exact  10 

My  chiefest  duty  and  attendance,  sir. 

Path.     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. 

Path.  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. 

Path.     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. 

Path.  I  doubt  it ; 

Whi[t]e  in  forc'd  show,  perhaps,  which  will,  I  fear, 
Prove  in  true  substance  but  a  miller's  whiteness, 
More  sticking  in  your  clothes  than  conscience. 

Chab.     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. 

Path.     As  if  the  total  sum  of  favourites'  frailties 
Affected  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  favourites'  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  mettle  bear,  80 

And  that  one  stamp,  one  word,  one  character  ? 

Path.     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  £5 

The  addition  of  your  honour'd  hand  ;    the  Council 
Have  all  before  subscrib'd,  and  full  prepar'd  it. 

Chab.     It  seems  then  they  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  therein  the  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].     [Ate,]  if  thou  beest  goddess  of  contention, 
That  Jove  took  by  the  hair  and  hurl'd  from  heaven, 
Assume  in  earth  thy  empire,  and  this  bill  100 

Thy  firebrand  make  to  turn  his  love,  thus  tempted, 
Into  a  hate  as  horrid  as  thy  furies. 

Chab.     Does  this  bear  title  of  his  lordship's  suit  ? 

Court.     It  does,  my  lord,  and  therefore  he  beseech'd 
The  rather  your  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  no 

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  ? 
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 

Path.     I  wo'  not  meddle 
With  anything  of  state,  you  knew  long  since. 

Chab.     Yet  you  may  hear  it,  sir. 

Path.  You  wo'  not  urge 

My  opinion,  then  ?    Go  to  ! 

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  seiz'd  to  recompense  a  Spanish  ship 

Priz'd  by  a  Frenchman  ere  the  league  was  made.  130 

No  suits,  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  the  league's  breach  and  the  foul  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  ship  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 

Path.     'Twere  absolute  injustice. 

Chab.  Should  I  pass  it  ? 

Path.     Pass  life  and  state  before ! 

Chab.  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  !    Exit    155 

Path.     This  could  I  cherish  now,  above  his  loss. — 
You  may  report  as  much,  the  bill  discharg'd,  sir.   Exeunt 

ACTUS    SECUNDUS 

[SCENA    I 

A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  King  and  Queen,  Secretary  with  the  torn  bill 

King.     Is  it  e'en  so  ? 

Queen.  Good  heaven,  how  tame  you  are  ! 

Do  Kings  of  France  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  about  him, 

And  multiplicity  of  cares  may  make  5 

Wise  men  forget  themselves.     Come,  be  you  patient. 

Queen.     Can  you  be  so,  and  see  yourself  thus  torn  ? 

King.     Ourself  ? 

Queen.     {Showing  the  torn  bill.]     There  is  some  left,  if  you 

dare  own 
Your  royal  character  ;    is  not  this  your  name  ? 

King.     'Tis  Francis,  I  confess. 

Queen.  Be  but  a  name,  10 

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  established 

To  punish  the  defacers  of  your  image  15 

But  dully  set  by  the  rude  hand  of  others 
Upon  your  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  [his]  brain  [were]  circumscrib'd  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  Montmorency  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  employment,  a  Colossus, 
And  can  stride  from  one  province  to  another 


Sc.  i]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  287 

By  the  assistance  of  those  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  wife — 

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]  Well,  well  ;  I'll  think  on't.     Exit 

Chan.  He  begins  to  incline. 

Madam,  you  are  the  soul  of  our  great  work. 

Queen.     I'll  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  your  humblest  creatures. 

Queen.  Press  no  further.       Exit  Queen 

Chan.     Let's    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. 

Exeunt 


[SCENA    II 
Another  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  Father  and  Allegre 

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  all  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  [Acx  II 

Path.     Need  he  their  spurs  ? 

Al.  Ay,  sir,  for  he's  afraid 

To  bear  himself  too  boldly  in  his  braves 
Upon  the  King,  being  newly  enter 'd  minion, 
(Since  'tis  but  patience  sometime  [he]  think[s] 
Because,  the  favour  spending  in  two  streams,  15 

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  habit  shows  his  sap  still  flows 
Above  the  solid  timber,  with  which,  then,  25 

His  blaze  shrinks  head,  he  cools,  and  smokes  again. 

Path.     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. 

Path.  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, 
Suborn' 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  ! 
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. 

A  I.     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  shall  bear 
Their  heap  digested  in  my  sepulchre. 
Death  is  the  life  of  good  men  :    let  'em  come. 

Enter  Constable,   Chancellor,  Treasurer,   and  Secretary 

Mont.     I  thought,  my  lord,  our  reconcilement  perfect.          65 
You  have  express'd  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. 

Chab.     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  split  it,  yet  'twas  high  and  right.  Exit    85 

C.P.W,  U 


290  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Acx  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  all  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  with  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  will  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.  Myself  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  j 


Sc.  3]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  291 

jj    r, 
And  I  ad  vane '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. 

Chab.     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  lives,  and  ever  seconds 
All  Icings'  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  will  so  strong 
Now  against  mine,  your  power  being  so  weak,  60 

Before  my  favour  gave  them  both  their  forces  ? 
Of  all  that  ever  shar'd  in  my  free  graces, 
You,  Philip  Chabot,  a  mean  gentleman, 


292  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Acx  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  France,  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  royal  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  compris'd 
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  myself  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  difference. 

Chab.  Find  them,  being  good. 

King.     Still  so  ?     What,  if  conferring  100 

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  your  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  common  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  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Acx  II 

But  have  his  swellings-out,  his  cracks  and  crannies  ; 

And  therefore,  in  this,  reason,  before  law  140 

Take  you  to  her,  lest  you  affect  and  natter 

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  toys  I  shall  despise  in  death  ; 
And  while  I  live,  will  lay  them  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  1 5  5 

And  hits  i'  th'  teeth,  himself  pays  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  ! 

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  ! 

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  with  silver  springs, 
And  yet  my  merit  still  their  equal  sings. 

King.     Sing  till  thou  sigh  thy  soul  out ;  hence,  and  leave  us  !   175 

Chab.     My  person  shall,  my  love  and  faith  shall  never.     „ 

King.     Perish  thy  love  and  faith,  and  thee  for  ever  ! 

[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 ! 

[Exit  Asall] 

This  is  an  insolence  I  never  met  with.  180 

Can  one  so  high  as  his  degrees  ascend 
Climb  all  so  free  and  without  stain  ? 

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  life, 
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  ! 

King.     Let  it  be  fiery  quick. 

Chan.  It  shall  have  wings,  225 

And  every  feather  show  the  flight  of  kings. 

[Exeunt] 


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  malice  of  the  Chancellor. 

Chab.     Many  upon  the  torture  have  confess'd 
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  licence  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  lip   [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 

Path.     See,  you  that  trust  in  greatness,  what  sustains  you  ; 
These  hazards  you  must  look  for,  you  that  thrust 
Your  heads  into  a  cloud,  where  lie  in  ambush 
The  soldiers  of  state,  in  privy  arms  25 

Of  yellow  fire,  jealous,  and  mad  at  all 
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  puff  and  bubble, 
Of  breath  and  fume  forg'd,  your  vile  brittle  natures 
Cause,  of  your  dearness  ?  Were  you  tough  and  lasting, 
You  would  be  cheap,  and  not  worth  half  your  face.  35 

Now,  daughter  ;  planet-struck  ? 

Wife.  I  am  considering 

What  form  I  shall  put  on,  as  best  agreeing 
With  my  lord's  fortune. 

Path.  Habit  do  you  mean, 

Of  mind,  or  body  ? 

Wife.  Both  would  be  apparell'd.  40 

Path.     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  ! 

Enter  Queen,  Constable,  Treasurer,  and  Secretary 

She  has  express'd  gainst  me  some  displeasure. 

Path.     Let's  this  way  through  the  gallery.    [They  retire] 


298  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT          [Acx  III 

Queen.  "Pis  she. 

Do  you,  my  lord,  say  I  would  speak  with  her.  45 

[To  the  Treasurer]  And  has  Allegre,   one  of  chiefest  trust 

with  him, 

Suffer 'd  the  rack  ?     The  Chancellor  is  violent : 
And  what's  confess'd  ? 

Treas.     Nothing  ;  he  contemn' d  all 
That  could  with  any  cruell'st  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  ! 

Treas.     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  turn'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. 

Path.   [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  ? 

Path.  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  ! 

Path.     Cause  you  are  a  queen,  to  trample  o'er  a  woman 
Whose  tongue  and  faculties  are  all  tied  up  ! 
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  ? 

Path.     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          [Acx  III 

Or  guilty  apprehension  of  your  rage, 

But  with  just  wonder  of  the  heats  and  wildness  115 

Has  prepossess'd  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 

Prepar'd  to  kill  with  death's  most  horrid  ceremony  ; 
Yet  with  what  freedom  of  my  soul  I  can 
Forgive  your  accusation  of  my  pride  ! 

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  the  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 

Commission  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 — 

Path.         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  limits  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  concern'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  soul 
Hath  excellence  above  this  earth-born  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  ;  I0o 

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  195 

To  know  him  fall'n  from  virtue,  yet  so  much 

I,  a  frail  woman,  love  my  King  and  Country, 


302  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT          [Acx  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  ! 

Path.     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.     Religiously  ;  a  true,  most  zealous  patriot,  2 1 5 

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 

whispering  with  the  Chancellor  ;  they  take  their  places  :  to 
them  enter  Treasurer  and  Secretary,  who  take  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. 

Proc.  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  jrotdv,  which  is,  to  make,  to  create,  to  in-  10 
vent  matter  that  was  never  extant  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  pyramids,  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 
a  king.  And  to  what  king  ?  His  own,  and  our  general  Sovereign,  35 
— pro  Deum  atque  hominum  fid'.m — a  king  and  such  a  king, 
the  health,  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  eye,  who 
wakes  and  watches  for  us  when  we  sleep — and  who  will  not 
sleep  for  him  ?  I  mean*  not  sleep,  which  the  philosophers  call  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  dwellings  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  hath  loved,  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. 

Pvoc.     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  your  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 5  36  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,  80 


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  King,  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  the  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. — I  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. 

Proc.  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,  infidelities, 
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  1 10 
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  actions  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  policy  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  all  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  all,  with  my  life,  to  your  free  censures, 

Only  beseeching  all  your  learned  judgments,  145 

Equal  and  pious  conscience,  to  weigh — 

Proc.  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  all  this  increase,  but  in  his  con 
tempt  and  scorn  of  the  subject,  his  vast  expenses  in  buildings,  1 50 
his  private  bounties,  above  royal,  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  1 5  5 
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- 
dently  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  countrymen  ? 

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  all  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  learn'd  assistants  ? 

ist  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  forming  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  offender,  195 

And  violate  majesty,  my  learned  assistants, 
When  majesty's  affronted  and  defied, 
(It  being  compar'd  with,  and  in  such  an  onset 
As  leap'd  into  his  throat,  his  life  affrighting  !) 
Be  justified  in  all  insolence  all  subjects,  200 

If  this  be  so  considered,  and  insult 
Upon  your  privileg'd  malice  !     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  ! 


30 8  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT          [Acx  III 

Reporter  of  the  process,  show  the  schedule. 

Notary.     Here,  my  good  lord. 

ist  Judge.  No  altering  it  in  us. 

2nd  Judge.     Far  be  it  from  us,  sir. 

Chan.  Here's  silken  justice  ! 

It  might  be  altered  ;    mend  your  sentences.  210 

Both.     Not  we,  my  lord  ! 

Chan.  Not  you  ?     The  King  shall  know 

You  slight  a  duty  to  his  will  and  safety. 
Give  me  your  pen  ;    it  must  be  capital. 

ist  Judge.     Make  what  you  please,  my  lord  ;    our  doom 
shall  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  ! 

ist  Judge  [aside].     Subscribe  ;    it  matters  nothing,  being 

constrain'd. 

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  burn  my  books,  and  be  a  judge  no  more. 

Both.     Here  are  our  hands  subscrib'd. 

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  you  for  this. 
Notary,  read. 

Not.  We,  by  his  sacred  Majesty  appointed  judges,  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 


Sc.  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 
I'  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  all  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 


3io  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Acx  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 
Against  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  ! 

King.  Are  you  serious  ? 

Mont.     Have  I  a  soul  or  gratitude  to  acknowledge 
Myself  your  creature,  dignified  and  honour'd  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  all 
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  !  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  !     No  matter  ; 

Leave  us.      [Exit  Asall]     A  great  man,  I  see,  may  be  80 

As  soon  dispatch'd  as  a  common  subject. 

Queen.     No  mercy  then  for  Chabot  ! 

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  ! 

Mont.  [To  ^Father]     Poor  soul  !      She  thinks  the  Queen 

is  still  against  him, 
Who  employeth  all  her  powers  to  preserve  him. 

Path.     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  all  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  [Acx  IV 

And  are  but  the  empty  shadow  of  a  king.  100 

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  condemned  then  ? 

Path.     My  son  is  condemn'd,  sir. 

King.  You  know  for  what  too  ? 

Path.     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  ! 

Path.  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  cannot  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  lady! 

Enter  Asall 

As.  Sir,  the  Chancellor !  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 ^of  this.  125 

King.     You  have  show'd  diligence  ;    and  what's  become 
Of  our  most  curious  justicer,  the  Admiral  ? 


Sc.  i]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  313 

Chan.     Condemn'd,  sir,  utterly,  and  all  hands  set 
To  his  conviction. 

King.  And  for  faults  most  foul  ? 

Chan.     More  than   most  impious  :    but  the  applausive 

issue,  1 30 

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  snuffs,  145 

But  for  their  profit  sake  will  add  no  oil ! 
So  these  will  check  and  sentence  every  f[l]ame, 
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,  your  care 
Hath  therein  much  deserv'd. 

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  his  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  ccndemn'd  prisoner  to  me  instantly.  180 

As.     I  shall,  sir. 

Enter  Treasurer  and  Secretary 

King.     My  lords,   you   were  spectators  of  our  Admiral. 

Treas.     And  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  mind'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  hath  offended 
In  such  a  height  against  your  crown  and  person,  200 

Will  want  no  impudence  to  look  upon  you. 


Sc.  i]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  315 

Enter  Asall,  Captain,  Admiral 

Cap.     Sir,  I  had  charge  given  me  by  this  gentleman 
To  bring  your  condemn' d  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  ;  what'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  you  enjoy 'd  before  th'  attainder. 

Treas.     Wonderful,  pardon' d  ! 

Wife.  Heaven  preserve  the  King  ! 

Queen.     Who  for  this  will  deserve  all  time  to  honour  him. 

Mont.     And  live  kings'  best  example. 

Path.  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  all  crimes  past,  of  what  nature  soever. 

Chab.     You  cannot  pardon  me,  sir. 

King.  How's  that,  Philip  ?  235 


316  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT         [Acx  IV 

Chab.     It  is  a  word  carries  too  much  relation 
To  an  offence,  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 

Path.     He's  mad  with  over  joy  and  answers  nonsense. 

King.     Why,  tell  me,  Chabot,  are  not  you  condemn'd  ? 

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  245 

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  learn'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,  without  suit  or  prayer, 
To  meet  with  his  contempt  ? 

Sec.  Unheard-of  impudence  !          265 

Chab.     I  were  malicious  to  myself  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  your  process  ;  and  if  it  prove  other 
Than  I  presume  to  inform,  tear  me  in  pieces.  275 


Sc.  i]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  317 

King.     Go  for  the  process,  and  the  Chancellor, 
With  the  assistant   Judges. 

Exit  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  loyalties  and  true  deserts 
That  I  believ'd  I  govern'd  with  till  now, 
In  my  choice  lawyers  and  chief  counsellors, 
Is  able  to  shake  all  my  frame  of  reason. 

Chab.     I  am  much  griev'd. 

King.  No  more!   [Aside]  I  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  still,  and  tell  me, 

Is  not  this  man  condemn'd  ? 

Chan.  Strange  question,  sir  ! 

The  process  will  declare  it,  sign'd  with  all 
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. 

Chan.     His  foul  comparisons  and  affronts  of  you 
To  me  seem'd  monstrous. 

King.  I  told  you  them,  sir ;  305 

Nor  were  they  any  that  your  so  vast  knowledge, 
Being  a  man  studied  in  him,  could  produce 


3i8  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Acx  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  sentenc'd,  310 

And  France  should  look  on  having  scap'd  with  wonder. 

What  in  this  nature  hath  been  clearly  prov'd 

In  his  arraignment  ? 

is*  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  ? 

is*  Judge.  None,  sir  ! 

Treas.     [aside]     This  argues  Chabot  has  corrupted  him. 

Sec.  [aside]     I  do  not  like  this. 

is*  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  ? 

is*  Judge.     For  threats  by  my  Lord  Chancellor  on  the 

bench, 

Affirming  that  your  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  enforc'd  to  what  we  did,  which  then  335 

In  law  is  nothing. 

Path.  How  do  you  feel,  your  lordship  ? 

Did  you  not  find  some  stuffing  in  your  head  ? 
Your  brain  should  have  been  purg'd. 

Chan.  I  fall  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  render'd,  and  most  tyrannous  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  !     One  command 
Our  Advocate  attend  us  presently. 

As.     He  waits  here.  355 

King.     But  single  death  shall  not  excuse  thy  skin 
Torn  o'er  thine  ears,  and  what  else  can  be  inflicted, 
If  thy  life,  with  the  same  severity 
Dissected,  cannot  stand  so  many  fires. 

j.   '       \  Be  merciful,  great  sir !          [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  dulls 
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. 

Chab.     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  ill  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  you  revise  the  late  arraignment ; 
And  for  those  worthy  reasons  that  already  4IQ 

Affect  you  for  my  Admiral's  acquittal, 
Employ  your  justice  on  this  Chancellor.     Away  with  him  ! 


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  guarded] 

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,  temples,  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  commission  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  will  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  [Acx  V 

Float  in  the  waves  of  an  imagin'd  favour  ; 
This  shipwrecks  in  the  haven,  and  but  wounds 
Their  consciences  that  soothe  the  soon-ebb'  d  humours 
Of  their  incensed  king. 

Mont'  Royal  and  sacred! 


King.     Come,  Philip,  shine  thy  honour  now  for  ever,       455 
For  this  short  temporal  eclipse  it  suffer  'd 
By  th'  interpos'd  desire  I  had  to  try  thee, 
Nor  let  the  thought  of  what  is  past  afflict  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  Court] 

Enter  Queen,  Constable,  Father 

Queen.     The  Admiral  sick  ? 

Path.  With  danger  at  the  heart ; 

I  came  to  tell  the  King. 

Mont.  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  decaying  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  confluence  of  streams 

That  fill  and  swell  [their]  channel  ;  for  by  this  time 

He  has  the  addition  of  Allegro's  suffering,  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  ? 

Path.  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  ? 

Path.  Oh,  madam,  madam  ! 

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  fire 
And  force  approach  us. 

Enter  King 

Mont.  Here's  the  King. 

Queen.  No  words 

To  interrupt  his  quiet. 

Path.  I'll  begone,  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.     What,  ha'  they  left  us  ? — How  does  my  Admiral  ? 

Path.     I  am  forbid  to  tell  you,  sir. 

King.  By  whom  ?  45 

Path.     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  OF  CHABOT  [ACT  V 

Clear  as  the  crystal  heaven,  and  'bove  the  reach 
Of  imitation  ? 

Path.  'Tis  their  care  of  you,  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  Chabot' 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  kingdom  shall  put  on 
Such  joys  for  him,  as  she  would  boast  to  celebrate  60 

Her  own  escape  from  ruin. 

Path,     [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! 

Path.  To  secure  his,  65 

I  would  you  had. 

King.  Ha  !     Who   durst  oppose  him  ? 

Path.     One  that  hath  power  enough  hath  practis'd  on  him, 
And  made  his  great  heart  stoop. 

King.  I  will  revenge  it 

With  crushing  that  rebellious  power  to  nothing. 
Name  him. 

Path.  He  was  his  friend.  70 

King.     A  friend  to  malice ;    his  own  black  imposthume 
Burn  his  blood  up  !     What  mischief  hath  engender' d 
New  storms  ? 

Path.  'Tis  the  old  tempest. 

King.  Did  not  we 

Appease  all  horrors  that  look'd  wild  upon  him  ? 

Path.  You  dress'd  his  wounds,  I  must  confess,  but  made     75 
No  cure  ;    they  bleed  afresh.     Pardon  me,  sir  ; 
Although  your  conscience  have  clos'd  too  soon, 
He  is  in  danger,  and  doth  want  new  surgery  ; 
Though  he  be  right  in  fame  and  your  opinion, 
He  thinks  you  were  unkind. 

King.  Alas,  poor  Chabot !  80 

Doth  that  afflict  him  ? 


Sc.  2]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  325 

Path.  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.  If  this 

Be  all,  I'll  cure  him  ;    kings  retain 
More  balsam  in  their  soul  than  hurt  in  anger. 

Path.     Far  short,  sir  ;    with  one  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,  confin'd  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  more ! 

Commend  us  to  the  Admiral,  and  say  100 

The  King  will  visit  him,  and  bring  [him]  health. 

Path.     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  !     But  we  must  be  wise. 

ist  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  one  1 

2nd  Judge.      If   please  your  lordships  to  remember,  that 


326  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Acx  V 

Was  specially  commended  by  the  King, 
As  being  most  blemish  to  his  royal  person 
And  the  free  justice  of  his  state. 

Treas.  Already  10 

He  has  confess'd  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 
lite  fieri.     It  was   the  position   of  philosophers,    and   now 
proved   by   a  more  philosophical   sect,   the  lawyers,   that, 
omnia  ex  lite  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  others,  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  beget  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  born  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  of 
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  ! 

Treas.     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  fortunate     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 
the  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  break  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, 
is*  Judge.     Master   Advocate,    please  you   to   urge,    for 


328       THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT      [Acx  V 

satisfaction  of  the  world  and  clearing  the  King's  honour,  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 
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  ways  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  ! 

Ad.  Yet  most  maliciously  proceeded  to  arraign  him  ;  to  be 
short,  against  all  colour  of  justice  condemned  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  !  He  was  not  guilty  only  of  murder — guilty, 
I  may  say,  in  foro  conscienti<z,  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  faithful  subject,  translating  all  his  own  black  and 
damnable  guilt  upon  the  King.  Here's  a  traitor  to  his 
country  !  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. 

[Voices]  within.     An  advocate  !  An  advocate  ! 
Tear  him  in  pieces  !       Tear  the  Chancellor  in  pieces  ! 
Treas.     The  people  have  deep  sense  of  the  Chancellor's 

injustice.  145 

Sec.     We  must  be  careful  to  prevent  their  mutiny. 
ist  Judge.     It  will  become  our  wisdoms  to  secure 
The  court  and  prisoner. 

Treas.  Captain  of  the  Guard ! 

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  hi  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  !  160 

My  ambition  now  is  punish'd,  and  my  pride 
Of  state  and  greatness  falling  into  nothing. 
I,  that  had  never  time,  through  vast  employments, 
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  lightning, 
Which  threatens  my  confusion.     That  my  free 
Resign  of  title,  office,  and  what  else 
My  pride  look'd  at,  would  buy  my  poor  life's  safety  ! 


330       THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT      [Acx  V 

For  ever  banish  me  the  court,  and  let  175 

Me  waste  my  life  far  off,  in  some  village. 

Ad.  How  !  Did  your  lordships  note  his  request  to  you  ? 
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  180 
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  you[r}  high  misdemeanours  against  his  Majesty's  judges,   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  uncap  able  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  A  dmiral  ;  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  !    That  some  cure 

may  bring  ; 
I  ['11]  spend  it  in  my  prayers  for  the  King.  Exeunt 


[SCENA    III 

A  Room  in  Chabot's  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  33* 

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  ! 

Were  all  my  joys  essential,  and  so  mighty 
As  the  affected  world  believes  I  taste, 
This  object  were  enough  to  unsweeten  all. 

Though  in  thy  absence  I     had  suffering,  15 

And  felt  within  me  a  strong  sympathy, 
While  for  my  sake  their  cruelty  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  suffer'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  ?     Misfortune  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       [Acx  V 

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  rind,  till  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 

\Exif\ 

Al.     What  accident  is  ground  of  this  distraction  ?  70 

Enter  Admiral 

Chab.     Thou  hast  not  heard   yet  what's   become   o'    th' 
Chancellor  ? 

Al.     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,  condemn'd  for  sacrifice 
By  law,  and  snatch'd  out  of  the  flame  unlocked  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  judges,  for  some  boldness  in  defence 

Of  my  own  merits  and  my  honest  faith  to  him, 

Was  rare,  past  example. 

Enter  Father 

Path.  Sir,  the  King 

Is  coming  hither. 

A  I.  It  will 

Become  my  duty,  sir,  to  leave  you  now.  85 

Chab.     Stay,  by  all  means,  Allegre,  't  shall  concern  you. 
I'm  infinitely  honour'd  in  his  presence. 

Enter  King,  Queen,  Constable,  and  Wife 

King.     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  challenge  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  shall  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  your  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  you  hitherto 
All  loyal  and  just  services,  I  charge  thee 
Preserve  thy  heart  for  me  and  thy  reward, 
Which  now  shall  crown  thy  merits. 


334  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Acx  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  suffers  for  my  sake.  125 

King.     He  shall  be  dear  to  us.   [To  Allegre]  For  what  has 

pass'd,  sir, 

By  the  unjustice  of  our  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. 

A  I.  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  little  ! 

Can  forfeit  of  his  place,  wealth,  and  a  lasting 
Imprisonment,  purge  his  offences  to  140 

Our  honest  Admiral  ?    had  our  person  been 
Exempted  from  his  malice,  he  did  persecute 
The  life  of  Chabot  with  an  equal  wrath  ; 
You  should  have  pour'd  death  on   his  treacherous   head. 
I  revoke  all  your  sentences,  and  make  145 


Sc.  3]  ADMIRAL  OF  FRANCE  335 

Him  that  was  wrong'd  full  master  of  his  destiny. 

[Turning  to  Chabotj 
Be  thou  his  judge. 

Chab.  Oh,  far  be  such  injustice ! 

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  your'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  you,  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  all  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  natter  me. 

King.  Physicians ! 

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  turn'd  widow  !  165 

Chab.     Who  would  not  wish  to  live  to  serve  your  goodness  ? 
Stand  from  me  [to  those   supporting  him],    you  betray   me 

with  your  fears  ; 

The  plummets  may  fall  off  that  hang  upon 
My  heart ;    they  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. 

Mont.     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  all  in  him  ; 
It  [is]  already  falling  in  my  ear. 
Pompey  could  hear  it  thunder,  when  the  Senate 


336  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT  [Acr  y 

And  Capitol  were  deaf  [t]o  heaven's  loud  chiding.  180 

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  ? 

Chab.  I  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  Philip  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  ;  live  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  ! 

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 


Can  serve  his  friends,  Chabot  shall  ne'er  be  wanting. 

The  greatest  loss  is  mine,  past  scale  or  recompence. 

We  will  proceed  no  further  gainst  the  Chancellor. 

To  the  charity  of  our  Admiral  he  owes 

His  life,  which,  ever  banish'd  to  a  prison, 

Shall  not  beget  in  us,  or  in  the  subject, 

New  fears  of  his  injustice  ;    for  his  fortunes, 

Great  and  acquir'd  corruptly,  'tis  our  will 

They  make  just  restitution  for  all  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, 

Shall  with  more  love  enshrine  thee  !    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 


337 


215 


220 


225 


C.D.W. 


CAESAR  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  services. 
Ever  your  lordship's 

GEO.  CHAPMAN. 


DRAMATIS    PERSONAE 


•  tribunes 


Julius  Caesar 

Mark  Antony 

Pompey 

Sextus,  Pompey's  son 

Marcus  Cato 

Portius,  his  son 

Athenodorus,  a  philosopher 

Statilius,  a  disciple  of  Cato 

Cleanthes,     the    Physician     of 

Cato 

Marcus  Brutus 
Minutius, 
Metellus, 
Marcellus, 
Gabinius, 
Vibius, 
Demetrius, 
The  two  Lentuli, 
Crassinius, 
Acilius, 
Achillas,    \ 
Septimius,  -murderers 
Salvius, 

Marcilius,  ) 

[servants  of  Cato 
Butas,        j 


Roman  nobles 


[soldiers  of  Ccesar 


Drusus,    servant   of   Cornelia 
Fronto,  a  ruined  knave 
Ophioneus,  a  devil 

/Iberia 
Thessaly 

The  Kings  of     <  Cicilia 
Epirus 

\Thrace 

The  two  Consuls 
Nuntius 
A  Soothsayer 
A  Shipmaster 
A  Sentinel 
Two  Scouts 
Senators 
Citizens 
Soldiers 
Ruffians 

Lords  and  Citizens  of  Utica 
Ushers 

Fages  \n\         ^lUTKlgiffgiJ 

Cornelia,  wife  of  Pompey 

Cyris,  his  daughter 

Telesilla, 

Laelia, 


[maids  of  Cornelia 


342 


THE  ARGUMENT 

Pompey  and  Caesar  bring  their  armies  so  near  Rome,  that 
the  Senate  except  against  them.  Caesar  unduly  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,  out  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,  Athenodorus,  Portius,  Statilius 

Cato.     Now  will  the  two  suns  of  our  Roman  heaven, 
Pompey  and  Caesar,  in  their  tropic  burning, 
With  their  contention  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. 

Ath.     From  whence  presage  you  this  ? 

Cato.  From  both  their  armies, 

Now  gather'd  near  our  Italy,  contending 


344  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  I 

To  enter  severally :  Pompey's  brought  so  near 

By  Rome's  consent  for  fear  of  tyrannous  Caesar ;  10 

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  fallings]  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 

Buffoons,  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. 

Por.  And  all  these  are  said 

To  be  suborn' 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  stol'n 
Access  so  soon  here  ;  Pompey's  whole  rest  rais'd 
To  his  encounter,  and,  on  both  sides,  Rome 
In  general  uproar. 

Stat.      [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. 

Stat.  Nothing,  sir  ?     I  saw 


Sc.  i]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY 

Castor  and  Pollux  Temple  thrust  up  full 

With  all  the  damn'd  crew  you  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  the  Bench  all  other  but  the  Consuls, 

Caesar  and  Pompey  and  the  Senators ; 

And  all  for  no  cause  but  to  keep  out  Cato  55 

With  any  violence,  any  villany. 

And  is  this  nothing,  sir  ?     Is  his  one  life, 

On  whom  all  good  lives  and  their  goods  depend 

In  Rome's  whole  Empire,  all  the  justice  there 

That's  free  and  simple,  all  such  virtues  too,  60 

And  all  such  knowledge,  nothing,  nothing,  all  ? 

Cato.     Away,  Statilius  ;  how  long  shall  thy  love 
Exceed  thy  knowledge  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  ! 
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  ;  7^ 
All  which  shall  fail  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  than  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  [Portius,  Athenodorus  and  Statilius] 

Enter  Minutius,  manet  Cato 

Cato.     Welcome  ;  come  stand  by  me  in  what  is  fit  85 

For  our  poor  city's  safety,  nof  respect 
Her  proudest  foe's  corruption,  or  our  danger 


346  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  I 

Of  what  seen  face  soever. 

Min.  I  am  yours. 

But  what,  alas,  sir,  can  the  weakness  do, 

Against  our  whole  state,  of  us  only  two  ?  90 

You  know  our  statists'  spirits  are  so  corrupt 
And  servile  to  the  greatest,  that  what  crosseth 
Them  or  their  own  particular  wealth  or  honour 
They  will  not  enterprise  to  save  the  Empire. 

Cato.     I  know  it,  yet  let  us  do  like  ourselves.      Exeunt    95 

[SCENE    II 
The   Forum,    before   the    Temple   of   Castor   and   Pollux'] 

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  Marcellus,  Caesar  staying 
awhile  without  with  Metellus,  who  hath  a  paper  in  his  hand. 
CCBS.  [aside  to  Metellus].  Move  you  for  ent'ring  only 

Pompey's  army  ; 

Which  if  you  gain  for  him,  for  me  all  justice 
Will  join  with  my  request  of  ent'ring  mine. 

Met.  [aside  to  Caesar].     'Tis  like  so,  and  I  purpose  to 

enforce  it. 

CCBS.     But  might  we  not  win  Cato  to  our  friendship  5 

By  honouring  speeches  nor  persuasive  gifts  ? 
Met.     Not  possible ! 

CCBS.  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  off  the  Bench. 

CCBS.  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, 
Athenodorus,  Statilius,  Portius. 

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  of  arm'd  men  got,  against  one  naked: 
I'll  part  their  whispering  virtue. 

i[s*  Ctt.]  Hold,  keep  out! 

2[nd  Cif\.   What,  honoured  Cato  ?  Enter,  choose  thy  place.      H 

Cato  [To  his  friends.]     Come  in. 

He  draws  him  in  and  sits  betwixt  Caesar  and  Metellus 
Away,  unworthy  grooms. 

3[rd  Cit].  No  more!     20 

Cess.     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  ! 
Thou  seek'st  the  people's  good,  and  these  their  own. 

5  [th  Cit.]     Brave  Cato  !   What  a  countenance  he  puts  on  !     25 
Let's  give  his  noble  will  our  utmost  power. 

6[th  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. 

Cess.  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  still  smoking  fire 
Of  Catiline's  abhorr'd  conspiracy  : 
Of  which  the  very  chief  are  left  alive, 
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,  suffer'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  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  I 

Which  I'll  illustrate  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  then 

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  will  soon  after  mount. 

So  Pompey's  army  enter'd  Italy, 

Yet  Pompey's  not  in  Rome  ;  but  Pompey'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. 

Cato.  We  ?  Which  '  we  '  intend  you  ? 

Have  you  already  bought  the  people's  voices  ? 
Or  bear  our  Consuls  or  our  Senate  here  65 

So  small  love  to  their  country,  that  their  wills 
Beyond  their  country'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. 

Cess.     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  directest  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  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  349 

Without  least  question,  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  country's  lovers  :  first,  in  those  wild  kingdoms 

Subdu'd  to  Rome  by  my  unwearied  toils, 

Which  I  dissavag'd  and  made  nobly  civil ; 

Next,  in  the  multitude  of  those  rude  realms  105 

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  malntain'd) 

That  I  can  make  for  those  accused  prisoners, 

Which  is  but  by  the  way  ;  that  so  the  reason 

Metellus  makes  for  ent'ring  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  affects  not, 


350  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  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 

His  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  Caesar'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  ambition 

Hath  brought  to  question  th'  entry  of  my  army,  150 

And  therefore  not  suspected  the  effect 

Of  which  that  entry  is  suppos'd  the  cause, 

Which  is  a  will  in  me  to  give  my  power 

The  rule  of  Rome's  sole  Empire  ;  that  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 

Confirm'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. 
•Nor  can  blind  Fortune  vaunt  her  partial  hand  165 

In  any  part  of  all  my  services — 

Though  some  have  said  she  was  the  page  of  Caesar, 

Both  sailing,  marching,  fighting,  and  preparing 

His  fights  in  very  order  of  his  battles  ; 

The  parts  she  play'd  for  him  inverting  nature,  3  if"  170 

As  giving  calmness  to  th'  enraged  sea, 

Imposing  summer's  weather  on  stern  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  CESAR  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  transferr'd  with  affectation  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. 

Cato.     What  rests  then,  this  of  all  parts  being  disclaim'd  ? 

Met.     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 

Cess.     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  wrongfully  accuse  me  to  intend 

A  tyranny  amongst  ye,  and  shall  give  195 

Pompey  full  means  to  be  himself  a  tyrant. 

Ant.     Can  this  be  answer'd  ? 

ist  Con.  Is  it  then  your  wills 

That  Pompey  shall  cease  arms  ? 

Ant.  What  else  ? 

Omnes.  No,  no  ! 

2nd  Con.     Shall  Caesar  cease  his  arms  ? 

Omnes.  Ay,  ay ! 

Ant.  For  shame  1 

Then  yield  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  Pompey's  army's  entry, 
That  only  by  thy  complices  and  thee 
'Tis  forg'd  to  set  the  Senate  in  an  uproar. 

[He  snatches  the  bill] 

Met.     I   have  it,  sir,  in  memory,  and  will  speak  it.          210 

Cato.     Thou  shalt  be  dumb  as  soon. 


352  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  OESAK  AND  POMPEY  [ACT  I 

Cas.  Pull  down  this  Cato, 

Author  of  factions,  and  to  prison  with  him.         He  draws, 

[Senate.]     Come  down,  sir!  and  all  draw 

Pom.  Hence,  ye  mercenary  ruffians  ! 

is*  Con.     What  outrage  show  you  ?  Sheathe  your  insolent 

swords, 
Or  be  proclaim'd  your  country's  foes  and  traitors.  215 

Pom.     How  insolent  a  part  was  this  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  offer  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  govern'd  for  the  common  good  ? 

C&s.     Accuse  yourself,  sir  (if  your  conscience  urge  it), 
Or  of  ambition,  or  corruption, 
Or  insufficiency  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 

I  Is  all  the  rope  of  your  great  parts  affected  ?  235 

You  speak  well,  and  are  learn'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 


Sc.2]    THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  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. 

Cess.     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. 

Cces.     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  therefore  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  Sarmentus,  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 

Cato.     My  lords,  ye  make  all  Rome  amaz'd  to  hear. 
Pom.     Away,  I'll  hear  no  more  ;    I  hear  it  thunder. 
My  lords,  all  you  that  love  the  good  of  Rome, 

C.D.W.  A  A 


354  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  II 

I  charge  ye,  follow  me  ;    all  such  as  stay 

Are  friends  to  Caesar  and  their  country's  foes.  295 

Cces.     Th*  event  will  fall  out  contrary,  my  lords. 

ist  Con.     [to  C&sar'}.     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 

1  The  Ruffians.     War,  war,  O  Caesar  ! 

Senate  and  People.  Peace,  peace,  worthy  Pompey  ! 


ACT  II,  SCENE    I 
[Before  the  Walls  of  Rome] 

Enter  Fronto,  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  corners 

Nor  shifting  courses,  and  with  honest  means 

To  rack  my  miserable  life  out  more — 

The  rack  is  not  so  fearful  ;    when  dishonest  5 

And  villainous  fashions  fail  me,  can  I  hope 

To  live  with  virtuous,  or  to  raise  my  fortunes 

By  creeping  up  in  soldierly  degrees  ? 

Since  villainy,  varied  thorough  all  his  figures, 

Will  put  no  better  case  on  me  than  this,  10 

f  Despair,  come  seize  me  !    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,  15 

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  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  355 

Thunder,  and  the  gulf  opens,  flames  issuing,  and  Ophioneus 
ascending,  with  the  face,  wings,  and  tail  of  a  dragon  ;  a  skin 
coat  all  speckled  on  the  throat 

Oph.     Hold,  rascal,  hang  thyself  in  these  days  ?     The  only     25 
time  that  ever  was  for  a  rascal  to  live  in ! 

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  world's  out  of  frame,  a  thousand  rulers  wresting 
it  this  way  and  that,  with  as  many  religions  ;    when,   as 
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  !  No,  spawn  of  a  clot !  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,  spurning  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  serpent  by  interpretation — was  general  60 
captain  of  that  rebellious  host  of  spirits  that  waged  war  )^ 
with  heaven. 

Fron.     And  so  were  hurled  down  to  hell. 


356  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  GESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acr  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  !    What's  thy  name  now  ? 

Fron.     My  name  is  Pronto. 

Oph.     Pronto  ?     A    good    one ;     and    has    Pronto   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  sumner,  a 
sergeant,  an  intelligencer,  and  at  last  hang  thyself  ? 

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  corners 
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 

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  !  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  ?  100 

Fron.     None  better. 

Oph.     Be  an  archflamen,  then,  to  one  of  the  gods. 

Fron.     Archflamen  !    What's  that  ? 


Sc.  i]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY   357 

Oph.     A  priest. 

Fron.     A  priest,  that  ne'er  was  clerk  ? 

Oph.  No  clerk  I    what  then  ?   105 

The  greatest  clerks   are   not   the   wisest   men. 

Nor  skills  it  for  degrees  in  a  knave  or  a  fool's  preferment ; 
thou  shalt  rise  by  fortune  :  let  desert  rise  leisurely  enough,  and 
by  degrees  ;  fortune  prefers  headlong,  and  comes  like  riches  to 
a  man;  huge  riches  being  got  with  little  pains,  and  little  no 
with  huge  pains.  And  for  discharge  of  the  priesthood, 
what  thou  want'st  in  learning  thou  shalt  take  out  in  good- 
fellowship  ;  thou  shalt  equivocate  with  the  sophister,  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  regnutn  Deorum  gentibus. 

Fron.     All  this  I  can  do  to  a  hair. 

Op h.  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  hell.     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  I 
a  purchase  for  all  manner  of  villainy,  especially  that  may  ' 
be  privileged  by   authority,    coloured    with   holiness,   and 
enjoyed  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 !  He  kneels 

Oph.  Away  !  Companion  and  friend,  give  me  thy  hand  ; 
say,  dost  not  love  me,  art  not  enamoured  of  my  acquain 
tance  ? 

Fron.     Protest  I  am  I  140 

Oph.  Well  said  ;  protest,  and  'tis  enough.  And  know  for 
infallible,  I  have  promotion  for  thee,  both  here  and  hereafter, 
which  not  one  great  one  amongst  millions  shall  ever  aspire 
to.  Alexander  nor  great  Cyrus  retain  those  titles  in  hell 
that  they  did  on  earth.  145 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  II 

Fron.     No  ? 

Oph.     No !    He  that  sold  sea-coal  here  shall  be  a  baron 
there  ;    he  that  was  a  cheating  rogue  here  shall  be  a  justice 
of  peace  there  ;   a  knave  here,  a  knight  there.     In  the  mean 
space  learn  what  it  is  to  live,  and  thou  shalt  have  chopines  150 
at  commandment  to  any  height  of  life  thou  canst  wish. 

Fron.     I  fear  my  fall  is  too  low. 

Oph.  Too  low,  fool  ?  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  fashionable.  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  offer  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-dying,  whose  170 
soul  I  will  have,  and  thou  shalt  have  his  office. 

Fron.     Excellent !   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 

When  they  began  the  bloody  frights  of  war  : 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  359 

In  which  our  two  great  soldiers  now  encount'ring, 

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  ;  25 

And  then  his  sides  he  swinges  with  his  stern 

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  turn'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  turn'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]  !     Fly  ye  Caesar's  fortunes  ? 
Cess.     Forbear,  Crassinius  ;  we  contend  in  vain 
To  stay  these  vapours,  and  must  raise  our  camp. 


360  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  II 

Cras.     How  shall  we  rise,  my  lord,  but  all  in  uproars, 
Being  still  pursu'd  ? 

Enter  Acilius 

\AcilI\  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. 

CCBS.     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  strength, 
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  recover'd. 

Cces.     Vibius  ?     In  happy  hour  1 

Vib.  For  me,  unhappy  ! 

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. 

Cces.     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  Caesar. 

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]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  361 

But  trust  against  them,  oftentimes,  their  councils, 

Wherein,  I  doubt  not,  Caesar's  self  hath  err'd  40 

Sometimes,  as  well  as  Pompey. 

Cces.  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. 

Ant.  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. 

Cces.     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  teinper':""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  this  day 
Was  given  by  Cato  for  his  pursuit's  stay, 

(Which  was  prevention  of  our  Roman  blood)  60 

Propose  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  return  05 

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  Caesar 
In  other  men,  but,  in  what  I  approve, 

Beneath  his  merits  ;  which  I  will  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 

Cess.     Your  love,  sir,  and  your  friendship ! 

Ant.  This  prepares 

A  good  induction  to  the  change  of  Fortune   -^ 
In  this  day's  issue,  if  the  pride  it  kindles  75 

In  Pompey's  veins  makes  him  deny  a  peace 
So  gently  offer'd;  for  her  alter'd  hand 


362  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  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  80 

To  keep  her  constant,  yet  retire  refus'd. 

Cces.     I  try  no  such  conclusion,  but  desire 
Directly  peace.     In  mean  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  delays  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  those  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. 

Cces.     How  shall  I  help  it  ?  Shall  I  suffer  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. 

CCBS.     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  live),  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  1 1 5 

Must  serve  proportion  ;  justice  never  can 
Be  else  restor'd,  nor  right  the  wrongs  of  man.          Exeunt 


Sc.  4]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  363 
[SCENE    IV 

The  Camp  of  Pompey] 

Pompey,    Cato,    Gabinius,    Demetrius,    Athenodorus,    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. 

Cato.  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  offer'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 
With  proof -ful  action. 

Dem.  O,  'twas  ill  neglected. 

Stat.     It  was  deferr'd  with  reason,  which  not  yet 
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  compar'd 
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  all  night  in  armour — their  most  part 


364  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  II 

Can  never  bear  it,  by  their  years'  oppression, 
Spent  heretofore  too  much  in  those  steel  toils. 

Cato.     I  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  offer  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.  [going] 

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  ? 

Cato.     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  6$ 

Soever  conquer,  no  disorder'd  stragglers, 
Puff'd  with  the  conquest,  or  by  need  impelTd, 
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  always  answer 
Your  infinite  merits  with  their  like  protection  ; 
In  which  I  make  no  doubt  but  we  shall  meet 
With  mutual  greetings,  or  for  absolute  conquest,  75 


Sc.  4]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  365 

Or  peace  preventing  that  our  bloody  stroke  ; 

Nor  let  our  parting  be  dishonour'd  so 

As  not  to  take  into  our  noblest  notice 

Yourself,   [to  Athenodorus]  most  learned  and  admired  father, 

Whose  merits,  if  I  live,  shall  lack  no  honour.  80 

Portius,  Statilius,  though  your  spirits  with  mine 

Would  highly  cheer  me,  yet  ye  shall  bestow  them 

In  much  more  worthy  conduct ;  but  love  me, 

And  wish  me  conquest  for  your  country's  sake. 

Stat.     Our  lives  shall  seal  our  loves,  sir,  with  worst  deaths       85 
Adventur'd  in  your  service. 

Pom.  Y'are  my  friends. 

Exeunt  Cato,  Athenodorus,  Portius,  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  tender'd  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)  your  own  no 

Only  makes  sacred  to  your  use  my  offering. 

Pom.     Far  fly  all  other  thought  from  my  construction 


366  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  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. 
ist  Con.     See  yet,  my  lord,  more  friends. 
2nd  Con.  Five  kings,  your  servants. 

Enter  five  Kings 

Iber.     Conquest  and  all  grace  crown  the  gracious  Pompey,   1 20 
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    >r" 
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,  >f 
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  still-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  GESAR  AND  POMPEY  367 


Brut.     What  thin  clouds  fly  the  winds,  like  swiftest  shafts 
Along  air's  middle  region  J 

ist  Con.  They  presage 

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] 


150 


[SCENE    V 

The  Bank  of  the  River  Anius] 
Thunder  continued,  and  Caesar  enters  disguised 

[Cas.]     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, 
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  ghastly  chaos, 
Blush  thus  to  drown  them  all  in  this  hour,  sign'd 
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, 
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 
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 
My  army's  dull  rest  from  Brundusium) 
That  is  at  all  times  else  exceeding  calm 
By  reason  of  a  purling  wind  that  flies 


368  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acr  III 

Off  from  the  shore  each  morning,  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  dare  stir. 

And  on  it  is  dispers'd  all  Pompey's  navy 

To  make  my  peril  yet  more  envious.  35 

Shall  I  yet  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  ? 

CCBS.  Master,  come  !  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  ? 

CCBS.     Launch,  man,  and  all  thy  fears'  freight  disavow  ; 
VJThou  earnest  Caesar  and  his  fortunes  now.  [Exeunt]     45 

ACT  III,  SCENE    I 
[The  Camp  of  Pompey] 

Pompey,  two  Consuls,  five  Kings,  Brutus,  Gabinius,  Demetrius 

[Pom.}     Now  to  Pharsalia,  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  to  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  all  the  meads  and  gardens  of  the  world. 
All  which  hath  grown  still,  as  the  time  increas'[d]  15 


Sc.  i]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  369 

In  which  'twas  gather'd,  and  with  which  it  stemm'd, 

That  what  decay  soever  blood  inferr'd,    -^ 

Might  with  my  mind's  store  be  supplied  and  cheer'd  : 

All  which,  in  one  fire  of  this  instant  fight, 

I'll  burn  and  sacrifice  to  every  cinder  20      ~ 

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  bestow  on  all  (if  good  succeed) 

So  if  adverse  fate  fall,  I  wish  no  blame,  25 

But  th'  ill  befall'n  me  made  my  fortune's  shame, 

Not  mine,  nor  my  fault. 

is/  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-like !     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  still  aloft. 
Cil.     Who  cares  for  up  or  down,  when  all's  but  thought  ? 
Gab.     To  things'  events  doth  no  man's  power  extend.        40 
Dem.     Since  gods  rule  all,  who  anything  would  mend  ?  -> 
Pom.     Ye  sweetly  ease  my  charge,  yourselves  unbur then- 
ing. 

Return'd  not  yet  our  trumpet,  sent  to  know 
Of  Vibius'  certain  state  ? 

Gab.  Not  yet,  my  lord. 

Pom.     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  affirm  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  you  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.W.D.  B  B 


370  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  III 

In  conduct  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  Caesar,  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 
From  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  peace  betwixt  you. 

Pom.     A  peace  !     Is't  possible  ? 

Vib.  Come,  do  not  show  90 

This  wanton  incredulity  too  much. 


Sc.  i]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  371 

Pom.     Believe  me  I  was  far  from  such  a  thought 
In  his  high  stomach  :  Cato  prophesied  then. 
What  think  my  lords  our  Consuls,  and  friend  Brutus  ? 

[Both  Consuls]     An  offer  happy  ! 

Brut.  Were  it  plain  and  hearty.     95 

Pom.     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  ! 
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. 

ist  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  Cato 
Than  with  the  truth  go  of  the  world  besides  ; 
But  since  it  shall  abide  this  other  stroke, 
j  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, 
j  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  prime  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  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  III 

In  peace,  in  battle,  against  Greece  as  well 

As  our  barbarian  foes  ;    command  yet  further, 

Ye  firm  and  just  gods,  our  assistful  angel 

For  Rome  and  Pompey,  who  now  fights  for  Rome, 

That  all  these  royal  laws  to  us,  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 

Cces.     Say,  sacred  Soothsayer,  and  inform  the  truth, 
What  liking  hast  thou  of  our  sacrifice  ? 

Sooth.     Imperial  Caesar,  at  your  sacred  charge  » 

I  drew  a  milk-white  ox  into  the  temple, 

And  turning  there  his  face  into  the  east  5 

(Fearfully  shaking  at  the  shining  light) 
Down  fell  his  horned  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,  20 

His  limbs  were  all  lick'd  up  with  instant  flames, 
Not  like  the  elemental  fire  that  burns 
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  burns  the  fire  eternal  and  sincere. 
Cces.     And  what  may  that  presage  ? 
Sooth.  That  even  the  spirit 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY  373 

Of  heaven's  pure  flame  flew  down  and  ravish'd  up 

Your  offering's  blaze  in  that  religious  instant, 

Which  shows  th'  alacrity  and  cheerful  virtue  30 

Of  heaven's  free  bounty,  doing  good  in  time, 

And  with  what  swiftness  true  devotions  climb. 

Omnes.     The  gods  be  honour 'd  ! 

Sooth.  O  behold  with  wonder  ! 

The  sacred  blaze  is  like  a  torch  enlighten'd, 
Directly  burning  just  above  your  camp  !  35 

Omnes.     Miraculous  ! 

Sooth.  Believe  it,  with  all  thanks : 

The  Roman  Genius  is  alter'd  now, 
And  arms  for  Caesar. 

CCBS.  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  Scotussa. 
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  scouts 

Ctss.  What  news,  my  friends  ?         45 

ist  Scout.     Arm,  arm,  my  lord,  the  vaward  of  the  foe 
Is  ranged  already ! 

2nd  Scout.  Answer  them,  and  arm  ! 

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. 

CCBS.  Then  'twas  Jove  himself          55 

That  with  his  secret  finger  stirr'd  in  them. 

Cras.     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  form  and  name, 


374  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  GESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  III 

Near  whose  firm  base,  even  from  the  marble  pavement, 

There  sprang  a  palm-tree  up  in  this  last  night 

That  seems  to  crown  your  statue  with  his  boughs, 

Spread  in  wrapt  shadows  round  about  your  brows.  65 

CCBS.     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  employ'd, 
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 !   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,  alive  or  dead. 

CCBS.     Alive,  ye  gods,  vouchsafe  ;    and  my  true  vows 
For  life  in  him — great  heaven,  for  all  my  foes, 
Being  natural  Romans  ! — so  far  jointly  hear  85 

As  may  not  hurt  our  conquest ;    as  with  fear, 
Which  thou  already  strangely  hast  diffus'd 
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 

CCBS.     Since  we  must  fight,  then,  and  no  offer'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  coat-of-arms  to  give  my  soldiers 
That  ever-sure  sign  of  resolv'd-for  fight. 

Cr as.     These  hands  shall  give  that  sign  to  all  their  longings.  100 

Exit  Crassinius 

CCBS.  [To  Antony.]  My  lord,  my  army,  I  think  best  to 

order 
In  three  full  squadrons  ;    of  which  let  me  pray 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  GESAR  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 

Shall  take  direction. 

The  coat-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. 

Cess.  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  unworthy  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.  despisethjfear, 

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. 

[Exeunt] 


376  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  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  name,  my  soul  the  crack. 
Was  ever  sovereign  captain  of  so  many  5 

Armies  and  nations  so  oppress 'd  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  morn  ? 
The  new-fled  night  made  day  with  meteors, 
Fir'd  over  Caesar's  camp,  and  fall'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. 

Brut.     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  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY  377 

For  Caesar's  place  of  universal  bishop  ? 

Are  you  th'observed  rule  and  vouch'd  example,  40 

Who  ever  would  commend  physicians 

That  would  not  follow  the  diseas'd  desires    j"> 

Of  their  sick  patients  ;  yet  incur  yourself 

The  faults  that  you  so  much  abhor  in  others  ? 

Pom.     I  cannot,  sir,  abide  men's  open  mouths,  45 

Nor  be  ill  spoken  of  ;    nor  have  my  counsels 
And  circumspections  turn'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  life.  50 

I  bear  the  touch  of  fear  for  all  their  safeties, 
Or  for  mine  own  !     Enlarge  with  twice  as  many 
Self-lives,  self-fortunes,  they  shall  sink  beneath    / 
Then*  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  !    Good  my  lord,  lead  you  60 

The  whole  six  thousand  of  our  young  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  your  fills,  65 

Ye  beastly  doters  on  your  barbarous  wills.  Exeunt 

•i-  [SCENE  II 

The  Battlefield  of  Pharsalid] 

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. 

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  the  morning 
Made  such  amazes  ere  one  stroke  was  struck  ?  5 


378  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  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  10 

That  Caesar  gave  against  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  Mm  Pompey  and  Caesar  fighting  : 
Pompey  gives  way,  Caesar  follows,  and  enters  at  another  door 

Cces.     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, 
Inscrib'd  with  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  Battlefield] 

Enter  Pompey,  Demetrius,  with  black  robes  in  their  hands,  broad 

hats,  etc. 

Pom.     Thus  have  the  gods  their  justice,  men  their  wills, 


Sc.  3]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  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.  5 

O,  the  deserved  terrors  that  attend 

On  human  confidence  !  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  10 

Strow'd  all  with  flowers  and  nosegays,  tables  cover 'd 

With  cups  and  banquets,  bays  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  15 

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  off 

For  this  day,  or  from  these  fields,  to  some  other,  20 

Or  from  this  ominous  confidence,  till  I  saw 

Their  spirits  settled  in  some  graver  knowledge 

Of  what  belong' d  to  such  a  dear  decision, 

They  spotted  me  with  fear,  with  love  of  glory 

To  keep  in  my  command  so  many  kings,  25 

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  30 

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  on  ! 

Dem.     No  ;  I'll  not  rub  the  wound.     The  misery  is  35 

The  gods  for  any  error  in  a  man 

(Which  they  might  rectify,  and  should,  because 

That  man  maintain'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  40 

Men  order  theirs  and  their  devotions  in  them, 

Much  rather  striving  to  entangle  men 

In  pathless  error  than  with  regular  right 


380  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  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  untouch'd  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  1 

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  till  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  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  381 

To  whom  I'll  fly  now,  and  my  wife  in  way  85 

(Poor  lady  and  poor  children,  worse  than  fatherless) 
Visit  and  comfort.     Come,  Demetrius, 

They  disguise  themselves 

We  now  must  suit  our  habits  to  our  fortunes,    S, 
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  Part  of  the  Field] 
Enter  Caesar,  Antony,  Acilius,  with  soldiers 

CCBS.     Oh,  we  have  slain,  not  conquer'd  !    Roman  blood 
Perverts  th'  event,  and  desperate  blood  let  out 
With  their  own  swords.     Did  ever  men  before 
Envy  their  own  lives  since  another  liv'd 

Whom  they  would  wilfully  conceive  their  foe,  5 

And  forge  a  tyrant  merely  in  their  fears 
To  justify  their  slaughters  ?     Consuls  ?  Furies  ! 

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 

CCBS.     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  liv'd 

I  should  be  comforted,  for  his  life  sav'd  1 5 

Would  weigh  the  whole  six  thousand  that  are  lost. 
But  much  I  fear  his  death,  because,  the  battle 
Full  stricken  now,  he  yet  abides  unfound. 

Acil.     I  saw  him  fighting  near  the  battle's  end, 
But  suddenly  give  off,  as  bent  to  fly.  20 

Enter  Brutus 

Ant.     He  comes  here  ;    see,  sir. 
Brut.  I  submit  to  Caesar 

My  life  and  fortunes. 


382  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acr  IV 

CCBS.  A  more  welcome  fortune 

Is  Brutus  than  my  conquest. 

Brut.  Sir,  I  fought 

Against  your  conquest  and  yourself,  and  merit 
(I  must  acknowledge)  a  much  sterner  welcome.  25 

Cces.     You  fought  with  me,  sir,  for  I  know  your  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  30 

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  live 
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  impair'd  to  live  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.          Exeunt 


[SCENE  V 
A  Room  in  Cato's  House  in  Utica] 

Portius  in  haste,  Marcilius,  bare,  following.      Portius  discovers 
a  bed  and  a  sword  hanging  by  it,  which  he  takes  down 

Mar.     To  what  use  take  you  that,  my  lord  ? 

For.  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  CESAR  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  tell  him,  nor  his  fury  serve 

With  any  other. 

Mar.  I  will  die,  my  lord, 

Ere  I  observe  it. 

For.  O,  my  lord  and  father  !  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  will  be  taken  from  me  by  the  tyrant  ? 

A  Ih.     No.     Would  you  only  ask  life,  he  would  think          20 
His  own  life  given  more  strength  in  giving  yours. 

Cato.     I  ask  my  life  of  him  ! 

Stat.  Ask  what's  his  own 

Of  him  he  scorns  should  have  the  least  drop  in  it 
At  his  disposure  ! 

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  tyrannous  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'll  rather  make  a  beast  my  second  father. 


384  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  [ACT  V 

Stat.     The  gods  avert  from  every  Roman  mind  45 

The  name  of  slave  to  any  tyrant's  power ! 
Why  was  man  ever  just  but  to  be  free 
i  Gainst  all  injustice,    and  to  bear  about  him 
/As  well  all  means  to  freedom  every  hour, 

As  every  hour  he  should  be  arm'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  tyrant  with  it  ?     All  just  men 
!  Not  only  may  enlarge  their  lives,  but  must, 
From  all  rule  tyrannous,  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  man  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  perfect'st  law  ? 

Ath.  Suppose! 

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! 


Sc.  5]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  385 

Cato.  No,  she  not  destroys  it  80 

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  death,  in  killing  quick 
That  which  in  just  death  lives  :    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  re  junction  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  shall. 

Ath.     In  reason  shall  it  ? 

Cato.  In  apparent  reason.  95 

Which  I'll  prove  clearly. 

Stat.  Hear,  and  judge  it,  sir! 

Cato.     As  Nature  works  in  all  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,  that  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  therefore  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  Iio 

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  aptly  quickens  the  proportion 
'Twixt  them  and  bodies,  making  bodies  fitter 

C.D.W.  c  c 


386  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY   [Acr  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. 

A  th.     Hold  you  our  bodies  shall  revive,  resuming 
Our  souls  again  to  heaven  ? 

Cato.  Past  doubt,  though  others     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  govern'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. 

A  th.     Your  happy  exposition  of  that  place 
(Whose  sacred  depth  I  never  heard  so  sounded) 
Evicts  glad  grant  from  me  you  hold  a  truth. 

Stat.     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  Caesar  ;  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, ;  let's  in  and  eat, 

Our  cool  submission  will  quench  Caesar's  heat. 

Stat.     Submission  ?    Here's  for  him. 

Cato.  Statilius,  150 

My  reasons  must  not  strengthen  you  in  error, 
Nor  learn'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-arm  betwixt  Atheno 
dorus  and  Statilius 


Sc.  i]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  387 

ACT  V,  SCENE  I 
[The  Island  of  Lesbos,  near  the  shore] 

Enter  Ushers  with  the  two  Lentuli,  and  [Sextus]  before  Cornelia  ; 

Cyris,  Telesilla,  Laelia,  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  mopiilik;e  confidence  in  joy  5 

Is  at  her  full,  true  joy  descending  far 
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  all  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  all  fears 
That  rise  not  from  your  judgments,  at  all  joys 
Not  drawn  directly  from  yourselves  and  in  ye  ! 
Distrust  in  man  is  faith,  trust  in  him,  ruin. 
Why  write  great  learned  men,  men  merely  rapt  20 

With  sacred  rage,  of  confidence,  belief. 
Undaunted  spirits,  inexorable  fate 
And  all  fear  treading  on,  'tis  all  but  air  ;  \ 
If  any  comfort  be,  'tis  in  despair. 

ist  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, 

train  by  land,  great  Pompey  comes  to  greet  you,rJL.  ,,      30 
in  your  letters,  he  near  this  time  promis'd. 

Cor.     O  may  this  isle  of  Lesbos,  compass'd  in 
fith  the  ^Egaean  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  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  V 

2nd  Len.     He's  busied  now  with  ordering  offices. 
By  this  time,  madam,  sits  your  honour'd  father 

He  looks  in  his  letter 
In  Caesar's  chair  of  universal  bishop. 

Domitius  ^Enobarbus  is  made  Consul,  40 

Spinther  his  consort ;    and  Phaonius 
Tribune,  or  Praetor. 

[Sextus  comes  forward}  with  a  letter 

Se[x].  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  should  dispose  could  grant  them  ? 
For  then  the  stroke  of  battle  was  not  struck. 

is*  Len.     Nay,  that  was  sure  enough.     Physicians  know 
When  sick  men's  eyes  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 

Till  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  yet,  madam.    60 

ist  Len.     Seest  thou  no  travellers  address'd  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. 
COY.    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. 
ist  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 
ist  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  promis'd  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  ill  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  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  V 

Cor.     Nothing  the  less  for  his  greatness. 

Dem.     Not  in  his  right ;    but  in  your  comforts  he  is.        no 

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   turn'd  good,  that  sorrow   turn'd 
comfort  ? 

Cor.     Why,  is  my  lord  wrong 'd  ? 

Dem.     We  possess  not  that  knowledge,  madam  :   suppose  120 
he  were. 

Cor.     Not  I ! 

Dem.     You'll  suppose  him  good  ? 

Cor.     He  is  so. 

Dem.     Then  must  you  needs  suppose  him  wrong'd  ;  for  all    125 
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  nourish'd  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,  y'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  little.  14$ 

Cor.     I  am  none  of  those  great  ladies. 

ist  Len.  She's  a  philosophress,  augur,  and  can  turn  ill  to 
good  as  well  as  you. 

Pom.     I  would  then  not  honour,  but  adore  her.      Could 
you  submit  yourself  cheerfully  to  your  husband,  supposing  150 
him  fallen  ? 


Sc.  i]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY     391 

Cor.     If  he  submit  himself  cheerfully  to  his  fortune. 

Pom.     Tis  the  greatest  greatness  in  the  world  you  under-  >f 
take. 

Cor.      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     /    c±,t 
good  thy  greatness.  {Revealing  himself.}     I  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  j 
Great  till  this  minute  ! 

Ambo  Len.  Pompey  ? 

Pom.  View  me  better  1  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  ! 

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  !  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.  JL- 

Before  we  went  upon  heaven,  rather  treading 
The  virtues  of  it  underfoot  in  making 
The  vicious  world  our  heaven,  than  walking  there 


392  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  [AcT  V 

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 
I  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. 

is/.     Len.     Miraculous  standing  in  a  fall  so  great !  200 

Would  Caesar  knew,  sir,  how  you  conquer 'd  him 

In  your  conviction ! 

Pom.  'Tis  enough  for  me 

That  Pompey  knows  it.     I  will  stand  no  more 
I  On  others'  legs,  nor  build  one  joy  without  me. 

If  ever  I  be  worth  a  house  again  205 

i  I'll  build  all  inward  ;  not  a  light  shall  ope 
/  The  common  outway ;  no  expense,  no  art, 
1  No  ornament,  no  door  will  I  use  there, 

But  raise  all  plain  and  rudely,  like  a  rampier 

Against  the  false  society  of  men  210 

That  still  batters 

All  reason  piecemeal,  and,  for  earthy  greatness, 

All  heavenly  comforts  rarefies  to  air. 
-fl'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  all  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  unwholesome  south  220 

Exhal'd  his  venom'd  vapour.     And  what  else 

Is  any  king,  given  over  to  his  lusts, 

But  even  the  poison'd  cleft  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 


Sc.  i]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  393 

Take  in  another  way  ;  like  rooms  that  fight 
With  windows    gainst  the  wind,  yet  let  in  light. 

Ambo  Len.     My  lord,  we  serv'd  before,  but  now  adore  you. 

Sent.     My  lord,  the  arm'd  men  I  discover'd  lately  235 

Unshipp'd  and  landed,  now  are  trooping  near. 

Pom.     What  arm'd  men  are  they  ? 

is*  Len.  Some,  my  lord,  that  lately 

The  sentinel  discover'd,  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  these  so  near  intend  :    take  heed,  they  come. 

Enter  Achillas,  Septi[mi]us,  Salvius,  with  soldiers 

Ach.     Hail  to  Rome's  great  commander  ;  to  whom  ^Egypt 
(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  that  hurl'd  me  down  thus  low,  250 

Keep  you  from  rising  high  !  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  ? 
Cornelia,  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 ! 

[Exeunt  the  two  Lentuli,  and  Demetrius  with 

the  Ushers] 

Se[x\.     O  they  have  slain  great  Pompey  ! 
Cor.  O  my  husband  ! 

~  L  J<  \    Mother,  take  comfort ! 

Enter  Pompey  bleeding 

O,  my  lord,  and  father  ! 
Pom.    See,  heavens,  your  sufferings  I  Is  my  country's  love, 


394   THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  V 

The  justice  of  an  empire,  piety,  260 

Worth  this  end  in  their  leader  ?     Last  yet,  life, 
And  bring  the  gods  off  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!  265 

[Exeunt  Murderers  with  Pompey] 

Enter  the  two  Lentuli  and  Demetrius  bleeding,  and  kneel  about 

Cornelia 

ist  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  with  a  book  in  his  hand 

\Cato. ~\     O  beastly  apprehenders  of  things  manly 
And  merely  heavenly  !     They,  with  all  the  reasons 
I  us'd  for  just  men's  liberties  to  bear 
Their  lives  and  deaths  up  in  their  own  free  hands, 
Fear  still  my  resolution ;  though  I  seem  5 

To  give  it  off  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 

"I- Be  rack'd  out  of  my  veins  to  live  in  others, 
As  so  I  must,  if  others  rule  my  life, 
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  joys  and  ways  of  arrant  rogues  1 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  GESAR  AND  POMPEY  395 

No  stay  but  their  wild  errors  to  sustain  us  ! 

No  forges  but  their  throats  to  vent  our  breaths,  20 

To  form  our  lives  in,  and  repose  our  deaths  ! 

See,  they  have  got  my  sword.     Who's  there  ? 

Enter  Marcilius  bare 

Mar.  My  lord  ! 

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  ! 
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,  wayward  still,  and  poor),  35 

O  how  men  grudge,  and  shake,  and  fear,  and  fly 
His  stern  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  !     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  ! 

•    HKM    .'•>!,  v,  v:t>-/M    !-i.'jy:;c  evonU  ",Al 
Enter  Cleanthes 

Where's  my  sword  hung  here  ? 

Cle.  My  lord,  I  know  not. 

Cato.     The  rest  come  in  there  !  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  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  V 

To  th'  armed  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,  Portius  ;  Portius  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. 

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  Pompey  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. 

A  th.     The  gods'  wills  secret  are,  nor  must  we    measure     70 
Their  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, 
.Let's  not  contend  with  it,  when  heaven  itself 
)  Fails  to  reform  it :  why  should  we  affect 
The  least  hand  over  it  in  that  ambition  ? 

f  A  heap  'tis  of  digested  villany ;  80 

Virtue  in  labour  with  eternal  chaos 
Press'd  to  a  living  death,  and  rack'd  beneath  it, 
Her  throes  unpitied,  every  worthy  man 
Limb  by  limb  sawn  out  of  her  virgin  womb, 
^  To  live  here  piecemeal  tortur'd  ;  fly  life  then  !  85 

Your  life  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  sword, 
Lest  too  much  ye  presume,  and  I  conceive  90 

Ye  front  me  like  my  fortunes.     Where's  Statilius  ? 


Sc.  2]  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  397 

Por.     I  think,  sir,  gone,  with  the  three  hundred  Romans 
In  Lucius  Caesar'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  youth  and  live. 

Por.  My  brother  Brutus  100 

Is  gone  to  Caesar. 

Cato.  Brutus  ?     Of  mine  honour 

(Although  he  be  my  son-in-law)  I  must  say 
There  went  as  worthy  and  as  learn'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  done  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  stern  :  no 

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  ill 
You  thrive  in  honour. 

Por.  I,  my  lord,  shall  gladly 

Obey  that  counsel. 

Cato.  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 

Cato.     What  have  I  now  to  think  on  in  this  world  ? 
No  one  thought  of  the  world  :  I  go  each  minute 


398    THE  TRAGEDY  OF  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY     [AcrV 

Discharg'd  of  all  cares  that  may  fit  my  freedom.  130 

The  next  world  and  my  soul,  then,  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  would  see. 
JFor  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  employ 'd. 
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  !  Is't  sharp  ?   'Tis  sweet !     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],  Clean thes,  and 
Marcilius  holding  his  hands. 
Stat.     Cato?  My  lord? 
Por.  I  swear,  Statilius, 

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  you  would  live.  165 

Stat.     I  swear  by  all  the  gods,  I'll  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 

Por.     Look,  look  in  to  my  father !  O  I  fear  170 

He  is  no  sight  for  me  to  bear  and  live.  Exit 

Omnes  3.     O  ruthful  spectacle  ! 

Cle.  He  hath  ripp'd  his  entrails. 

[But}.     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  off ;  now  they  are  not.  175 

He  thrusts  him  back  and  plucks  out  his  entrails 
Have  he  my  curse  that  my  life's  least  part  saves  ; 
Just  men  are  only  free,  the  rest  are  slaves.     [Dies] 

[But].     Mirror  of  men  ! 

Mar.  The   gods   envied   his   goodness. 

Enter  Caesar,  Antony,  Brutus,  Acilius,  with  Lords  and  Citizens 
of  Utica 

CCBS.     Too  late,  too  late,  with  all  our  haste !  O  Cato, 
All  my  late  conquest,  and  my  life's  whole  acts,  180 

Most  crown'd,  most  beautified,  are  b[ljasted  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  !  185 

How  censures  Brutus  his  stern  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  ! 
Cces.  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.     Born  the  plagues  of  virtue. 


400  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CESAR  AND  POMPEY  [Acx  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. 

CCBS.     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  tyranny 
With  being  found  a  fautor  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. 

CCBS.     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  honour'd  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. 


403 


DRAMATIS    PERSONAE 


Alphonsus,    Emperor    of    Ger 
many 

King    of    Bohemia,    N 
Bishop    of    Mentz,        The 
Bishop  of  Collen,         Seven 
Bishop  of  Trier,  Electors 

Palatine  of  the  Rhein,  [  of  the 
Duke    of    Saxon,          German 


Marquess  of  Branden- 


Empire 


burg, 

Prince  Edward  of  England 
Richard,  Duke  of  Cornwall 


Lorenzo  de  Cyprus,  Secretary 
to  the  Emperor 

Alexander,  his  Son,  the  Em 
peror's  Page 

Isabella,  the  Empress 

Hedewick,  Daughter  to  the 
Duke  of  Saxon 

Captain  of  the  Guard 

Soldiers 

Jailor 

Hans, 

Jerick, 


Two  Boors 


404 


[ACT  I,  SCENE    I 
A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  Alphonsus  the  Emperor  in  his  nightgown  and  his  shirt,  and 
a  torch  in  his  hand ;  Alexander  de  Cyprus,  his  Page,  following 
him 

Alp.     Boy,  give  me  the  master-key  of  all  the  doors  ; 
To  bed  again,  and  leave  me  to  myself  !        Exit  Alexander 
Is  Richard  come  ?     Have  four  Electors  sworn 
To  make  him  Kaiser  in  despite  of  me  ? 

Why  then,  Alphonsus,  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  dried  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  tyrant  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  ! 
Within  this  chamber  lies  my  secretary, 
Lorenzo  de  Cyprus,  in  whose  learned  brain 
Is  all  the  compass  of  the  world  contain'd; 

405 


406       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY     [Acx  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  honour'd  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  prying  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.  50 

This  key  commands  all  chambers  in  the  court ; 

Now  on  a  sudden  will  I  try  his  wit, 

I  know  my  coming  is  unlook'd  for. 

He  opens  the  door  and  finds  Lorenzo  asleep  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  corner  stufTd  with  sentences. 

What's  this  ?     Plato  ?     Aristotle  ?     Tush  !  60 

These  are  ordinary  ; 
It  seems  this  is  a  note  but  newly  written. 

He  reads  a  note  which  he  finds  among  his  books 

'  Una  arbusta  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  65 
teacheth  thee  to  cleave  to  the  strongest  ;  Alphonsus  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  ;  70 


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  ? 
Villain,  thou  diest !     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 ! 
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  myself  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  scorneth  policy  ; 

I'll  imitate  Lysander  in  this  point,  105 

And  where  the  lion'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. 


408       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY     [Acx  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  no 
or  his  oath. 

Alp.     Tush,    fear  not  me,  my  promises  are  sound, 
But  he  that  trusts  them  shall  be  sure  to  fail ! 

Lor.     Nay,  my  good  lord,  but  that  I  know  your  Majesty 
To  be  a  ready  [and]  quick-witted  scholar,  115 

I  would  bestow  a  comment  on  the  text. 

3.  Trust  not  a  reconciled  friend,  for  good  turns  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  Collen,  was  not  he  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,  135 

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  fill  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  coffers,  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  Holiness 

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  [vainglorious]  fickle-minded  prelate, 
For  in  election  his  voice  is  first ;  i  S  S 

But  to  the  next: 

4.     'Tis  more  safety  for  a  prince  to  be  feared  than  loved. 

Alp.     Love  is  an  humour  pleaseth  him  that  loves  ; 
Let  me  be  hated,  so  I  please  myself. 

Love  is  an  humour  mild  and  changeable,  160 

But  fear  engraves  a  reverence  in  the  heart. 

Lor.  5.  To  keep  an  usurped  crown,  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  off. 
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  days  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  me 

safe 

For  stirring  hence  these  four-and-twenty  hours.  190 

[He  sleeps] 

Alp.     I  see,  this  charms  his  senses  suddenly. 


410     ALPHONSUS   EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY       [Acx  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  the  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  kills  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  thy  part,  210 

Earning  thy  gold  with  cunning  workmanship 
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  Frankfort] 

Enter  the  King  of  Bohemia,  the  Bishops  of  Mentz,  Collen, 
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  type 
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  Mentz,  Chancellor  of  Germany,  15 

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  tyrant 
That  hath  dishonour'd  us,  murder'd  our  friends,  25 

And  stain'd  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  coffers  like  the  chair  ; 
Peace  bringeth  plenty,  wars  bring  poverty  ; 
Grant  Heavens  this  meeting  may  be  to  effect, 
Establish  peace,  and 'cut  off  tyranny. 

Enter  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, 


412     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY      [Acx  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  ! 

My  brother  is  my  brother,  but  my  husband — 

O  how  my  joints  do  shake  fearing  his  wrong  ! 

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  !  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  he  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  ! 

Boh.     Madam,  that  we  have  suffer'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 ! 
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 

Pal.     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,  will  take  effect ! 
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.     I  go,  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  ?  no 

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 

Disburs'd  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  all  Germans  ;  why  should  we  be  yok'd 
Either  by  Englishmen  or  Spaniards  ?  130 

Sax.     The  Earl  of  Cornwall,  by  a  full  consent, 
Was  sent  for  out  of  England. 

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,  135 


414      ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY       [Acx  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 

Tri.     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  villainous, 

And  virtuous  Richard  scorns  so  base  a  yoke. 

Boh.     My  Lord  of  Saxon,  give  me  leave  to  tell  you,          150 
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  Grace,  in  mine 
opinion. 


Sc.  2]        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY      415 

Boh.     I  am  content,  to  stay  these  mutinies, 
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  offend,  but  to  defend  myself.  185 

Pal.     Ha'  with  you,  cousin,  and  adieu,  my  lords  ; 
I  am  afraid  this  sudden  knitted  peace 
Will  turn  unto  a  te'dious,  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,  200 

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  lion  ; 
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  your  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  your  Grace  may  bring  the  message, 

Men.     Thus  am  I  wrong'd,  God  knows,  unguiltily. 


416       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY      [Acr  I 

Bran.    Then  arm  your  countenance  with  innocency,          220 
And  boldly  do  the  message  to  the  Prince  ; 
For  no  man  else  will  be  the  messenger. 

Men.     Why  then  I  must,  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  thorough  Christendom, 
And  Germany  shall  bless  this  happy  day. 

Enter  Alexander  de  Toledo,  the  Page  ", 

Alex.     O  me  most  miserable  !     O  my  dear  father  ! 

Boh.    What  means  this  passionate  accent  ?    What  art 

thou  230 

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  !     What  was  a  not  ? 

Noble,  rich,  valiant,  well-belov'd  of  all, 
The  glory  and  the  wisdom  of  his  age, 
Chief  secretary  to  the  Emperor. 

Col.     Lorenzo  de  Toledo  !     Is  he  dead  ?  240 

Alex.     Dead,  ay  me,   dead  !     Ay  me,  my  life  is  dead  ! 
Strangely  this  night  bereft  of  breath  and  sense. 
And  I,  poor  I,  am  contorted  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  ! 
Thy  father  was  a  villain  murderer, 

Witty,  not  wise,  lov'd  like  a  scorpion,  250 

Grown  rich  by  the  impoverishing  of  others, 
The  chief est  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  ?  255 

Boh.     Good  Collen,  bear  with  him,  it  was  his  father  ; 
Dutchland  is  blessed  in  Lorenzo's  death. 


Sc.  2]  ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  417 

Bran.     Did  never  live  a  viler-minded  man. 

Exeunt  [the  Electors].     Manet  Alexander 

Alex.     Nor  king,  nor  Churfurst  should  be  privileg'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  live  in  hell  until  I  take  revenge. 

ACT  II 

[SCENE  I 

The  Hall  of  Electors] 

Enter  Alphonsus,  Richard  Earl  of  Cornwall,  Mentz,  Trier, 
Prince  Edward,  Bohemia,  Collen,  Brandenburg,  Attend 
ants,  and  Pages  with  a  sword. 

Boh.     Behold,  here  come  the  Princes  hand  in  hand, 
Pleas '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,  20 

I  hope  your  Grace  will  not  misthink  of  me, 
Who  for  your  good,  and  for  the  Empire's  best, 
Bethought  this  means  to  set  the  world  at  peace. 

C.D.W  .  E 


4i8        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Acx  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  million  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  your  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  your  admirable  patience, 
In  being  pleased  with  our  election, 

Deserves  far  more  than  thanks  can  satisfy  :  45 

In  anything  command  the  Emperors, 
Who  live  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 

[Exeunt  omnes] 

[SCENE  II 
A  Room  in  The  Court] 

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  bay-leaves,  whereupon  are  written 
the  lots.  A  train  of  ladies  following  with  music.  [The  Princes.] 

Emp.     To  gratulate  this  unexpected  peace, 
This  glorious  league  confirm'd  against  all  hope, 
Joyful  Isabella  doth  present  this  show 
Of  Fortune's  triumph,  as  the  custom  is 
At  coronation  of  our  Emperors.  5 


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  lot] 

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  lot]     The  Emperor's  Taster  I !  20 

Emp.     Your  Majesty  hath  been  tasted  to  so  oft 
That  you  have  need  of  small  instructions. 

Rich,     [drawing  a  lot]     I  am  the  Boor  ;    sister,  what  is 

my  charge  ? 

Emp.     Tir'd  like  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  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  you,  my  lords, 
I  am  your  Emperor  !  40 

Alp.     Sound  trumpets  ;    God  save  the  Emperor  ! 
Col.  [drawing]     The  world  could  never  worse  have  fitted 

me  ! 
I  am  not  old  enough  to  be  the  Cook. 

Emp.     If  you  be  cook,  there  is  no  remedy, 
But  you  must  dress  one  mess  of  meat  yourself,  45 

Bran,  [drawing]     I  am  Physician. 


420        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [ACT  II 

Tri.  [drawing]  I  am  Secretary. 

Men.  [drawing]     I  am  the  Jester. 

Ed.     O  excellent  !     Is  your  Holiness  the  Vice  ? 
Fortune  hath  fitted  you,  i'  faith,  my  lord  ; 
You'll  play  the  Ambidexter  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  ;  5  5 

Yet  ere  thou  draw,  myself  will  honour  thee, 
And  as  the  custom  is,  make  thee  a  man. 
Stand  stiff,  sir  boy,    now  com'st  thou  to  thy  trial  ! 
Take  this,  and  that,  and  therewithal  this  sword. 

He  gives  Alexander  a  box  on  the  ear  or  two 
If,  while  thou  live,  thou  ever  take  the  like  60 

Of  me,  or  any  man,  I  here  pronounce 
Thou  art  a  schelm,  otherwise  a  man. 
Now  draw  thy  lot,  and  fortune  be  thy  speed. 

Ed.     Uncle,  I  pray,  why  did  he  box  the  fellow  ? 
Foul  lubber  as  he  is  to  take  such  blows.  65 

Rich.     Thus  do  the  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  draws,]  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  ! 
Young  Prince  of  England,  you  are  bravely  match'd. 

Ed.     Tell  me,  sweet  aunt,  is  that  this  Saxon  Princess,       80 
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  oversparing  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  kisses  her 

Hed.     Sieh  dock,  das  ist  hier  kein  gebrauch  ! 
Mein  Gott,  ist  das  die  Englisch  manier  ?  90 

Dass  dich  ! 

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,  100 

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  Dass  dich  ! 
And  make  her  weary  of  her  fretting  humour 
Ere  I  be  weary  of  my  kissing  vein. 
Dass  dich  I  A  jungfrau  angry  for  a  kiss  ! 

Emp.    Nephew,  she  thinks  you  mock  her  in  [your]  mirth.  1 10 

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  accident  that  I  have  seen.  ,1  I 

Bran.     Methinks  the  Prince  is  chaf'd  as  well  as  she.         115 

Rich.     Gnddiges  Frdulein. 

Hed.     Dass  dich  I    mus[s]  ich  arme  kind  zu  schanden  ge-  A    j 
macht  werden  ? 

Ed.     Dass  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  Frdulein,  nim  es  all  fur  gute  ;  es  ist  die 
Englisch  manier  und  gebrauch. 


422       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY     [Acx  II 

Hed.     Euer  Gnaden  weiss  [e]s  wohl,  es  ist  mir  ein  grosse  schande. 

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    will's   nimmermehr   thun  :    if   I   understand    it 

right, 
That's  as  much  to  say  as  I'll  do  so  no  more.  130 

Emp.     True,  nephew  ! 

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.     Filrwahr,  kein  schand. 

Hed.     Gnddiger    hochgeborner   Filrst   und   Herr,    wenn  ich 
kdnnte    so    viel   Englisch    sprechen,  ich  wollt'    Euer  Gnaden  140 
fiirwahr    ein    filz    geben ;     ich    hoffe    aber,  ich    soil   einmal 
so  viel  lernen,  dass  sie  mich  verstehen  soil. 

Ed.     What  says  she  ? 

Alp.     O  excellent  !  Young  Prince,  look  to  yourself  ! 
She  swears  she'll  learn  some  English  for  your  sake,  145 

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  joyful  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  Euer  Gnaden  wohl  hiemit  zufrieden  ? 
Ed.     1st  Euer  Gnaden  wohl  hiemit  zufrieden  ? 
Hed.     Was    Ihre    Durchlauchtigkeit    will,    das    will    mein 
Vater,  und    was  mein  Vater  will,  damit  muss  ich  zufrieden 
sein .  1 7° 

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-villain,  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  [Acx  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    all 
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  less  ! 

Alp.     Suppress  thy  choler,  hearken  to  the  rest.  225 

Saxon,  I  say,  so  wrought  with  nattering  Mentz, 
Mentz  with  Bohemia,  Trier,  and  Brandenburg 
(For  Collen  and  the  Palsgrave  of  the  Rhein 
Were  principals  with  Saxon  in  the  plot), 

That,  in  a  general  meeting  to  that  purpose,  230 

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,  will  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  off  her  heads  by  one  and  one  ; 
Behooveth  us  to  use  dexterity, 
Lest  she  do  trample  us  under  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  in  execution, 

And,  but  I  lov'd  Lorenzo  as  my  life,  250 

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  eye-sore 
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,  undaunted  I 
Amidst  the  college  of  his  cardinals 
Would  press  and  stab  him  in  St.  Peter's  chair, 
Though  clad  in  all  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  all 
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  live  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  [Acx  II 

I   Alex.     What  by  your  Majesty  is  prescrib'd  to  me  290 

That  will  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  thousand  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  akeady  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  sapienti  :    it  is  enough. 
Fortune  hath  made  me  Marshal  of  the  sports, 

1  hope  to  marshal  them  to  th'  devil's  feast. 

Plot  you  the  rest,  this  will  I  execute,  320 

Dutch  boors  [are]  towsandt  schelms  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  father  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 ;    yea,  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    III 

A   Wood  near  Frankfort] 
Enter  Richard  Earl  of  Cornwall,  like  a  clown 

Rich.     How  far  is  Richard  now  unlike  the  man 
That  cross'd  the  seas  to  win  an  empery  ! 
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 

Collen,  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  off. 
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   [Acx  II 

While  my  best  friends  do  hide  their  heads  for  shame  ; 

I  bear  a  show  of  outward  full  content, 

But  grief  thereof  hath  almost  kill'd  my  heart. 

Here  rest  thee,  Richard ;  think  upon  a  mean  25 

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,  methinks  there  cometh  company, 

The  boors,  I  trow,  that  come  to  hew  the  wood,  30 

Which  I  must  carry  to  the  kitchen  fire  ; 

I'll  lie  awhile  and  listen  to  their  talk.  [He  retires'] 

Enter  Hans  and  Jerick,  two  Dutch  boors 

Jer.  Komm  hier,  Hans,  wor  bist  du  ?  Warum  bist  du 
so  traurick  ?  Bis  frolick  !  Kannst  vel  gelt  verdienen,  wir  will 
ihn  bei  potz  tausend  tot  schlagen.  35 

Hans.     Lat  mich  die  briefe  sehen. 

Rich.     Methinks  they  talk  of  murdering  somebody  ; 
I'll  listen  more. 

Jer.     [Reads  the  letter}     '  Hans  und  Jerick,   meine  liebe 
freunde,  ich  bitte,  lasset  es  bei  euch  bleiben  in  geheim,  und     40 
schlaget  den  Engelldnder  zu  tod.' 

Rich.  What's  that  ?  '  Hans  and  Jerick,  my  good  friend[s], 
I  pray  be  secret,  and  murder  the  Englishman.' 

Jer.     Hor'  weiter  :  [reads}  '  denn  er  ist  kein  bauer  nicht, 
er  ist  ein  junker  und  hat  viel  geld  und  kleinodien  bei  sich.'       45 

Rich.  '  For  he  is  no  boor,  but  a  gentleman,  and  hath  store 
of  gold  and  jewels  by  him.' 

Jer.  Noch  weiter  :  [reads]  '  ihr  sollt  solche  gelegenheit  nicht 
versdumen,  und  wenn  ihr  gethan  habet,  will  ich  euch  sagen,  was 
ich  fur  ein  guter  kerl  bin,  der  euch  rath  gegeben  habe.'  50 

Rich.  '  Slip  not  this  opportunity,  and  when  you  have  done 
I  will  discover  who  gave  you  the  counsel.' 

Jer.     Wat  sagst  du,  wilt  du  es  thun  ? 

Hans.  Wat  will  ich  nicht  fur  gelt  thun  !  sieh,  potz  tausend, 
dor  ist  er  !  [Discovering  Richard]  5  5 

Jer.  Ja,  bei  potz  tausend  sapperment,  er  ist's !  Holla, 
guten  morgen,  gliick  zu,  junker. 

Hans.     Junker  ?    Der  duvel,  he  is  ein  bauer. 

Rich.     Du  bist  ein  schelm,  weich  von  mir. 

Jer.     Holla,  holla,  bist  du  so  hoffdrtig  ?      Junker  bauer,         60 
kommt  hier,  oder  dieser  und  jener  soil  euch  holen. 


Sc.  3]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        429 

Rich.  Ich  bin  ein  Fiirst,  beruhrt  mich  nicht,  ihr  schelme,  ihr 
verrdther. 

Both.     Sla  tau,  sla  tau,  wir  will  you  fiirstlich  tractieren  I 

Richard,  having  nothing  in  his  hand  but  his  whip, 
defends  himself  awhile  and  then  falls  down  as 
if  he  were  dead 

Rich.     O  Gott,  nim  meine  Seele  in  deine  Hdnde.  65 

Jer .  O  excellent,  hurtick  I  He  is  tot,  he  is  tot  f  Lat  uns 
see  wat  he  hat  for  gelt  bei  sich.  [Plunders  the  body.]  Holla,  hier 
is  all  enough,  all  satt  ;  dor  is  for  dich,  und  dor  is  for  mich,  und 
dit  will  ich  dortau  haben. 

Jerick  puts  the  chain  about  his  neck. 

Hans.     How  so,  Hans  Narrhals,  gev  mir  die  kette  hier.         70 
Jer.     Ja,  ein  dreck  ;  dit  kett  stehet  hiipsch  um  mein  hals,  dit 
will  ich  tragen. 

Hans.  Dat  dich  Potz  Velten  leiden,  dat  soltu  nimmermehr 
thun,  du  schelm. 

Jer.     Wat,  sollt  du  mich  schelm  heiten  ?   Nim  dat  I  75 

[Strikes  him] 

Hans.  Dat  dich  hundert  tonnen  duvels  !  Harr,  ich  will  dich 
lernen  I 

Jer.     Wiltu  hauen  oder  stechen  ? 
Hans.     Ich  will  redlich  hauen. 

Jer.     Nun  wohlan,  dor  ist  mein  ruck,  sla  tau!  80 

They  must  have  axes  made  for  the  nonce  to  fight 
withal,  and  while  one  strikes,  the  other  holds  his 
back  without  defence. 
Hans.     Nim  du  dat.     [Strikes  him]      Und  dor  hast  mein 

ruck. 

Jer.  Noch  a  mal.  [Strikes  him,  Hans  falls]  0  excellent, 
ligst  du  dor  f  Nun  will  ich  alles  haben,  gelt  und  kett,  and  alles 
mit  einander.  0  hurtig,  frisch-up,  lustig,  nun  bin  ich  ein 
hurtig  junker  !  85 

Richard  rises  up  again  and  snatcheth  up  the  fellow's 
hatchet  that  was  slain 

Rich.     Ne  Hercules  [quidem]  contra  duos  : 
Yet  policy  hath  gone  beyond  them  both. 
Du  hudler,  schelm,  morder,  kehre  dich,  siehstu  mich  ?     Gebe 
mir  die  kett  und  gelt  wieder. 

Jer.     Wat,  bistu  wieder  lebendig  warden,  so  muss  ich  mich     90 
wehren  ;    wat  wiltu,  stechen  oder  hauen  ? 

Rich.    So  will  ich  machen,  du  schelm.    [Strikes  him  down] 


430        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [ACT  II 

Jer.  {falls.']  Harr,  harr  /  Bistu  ein  redlich  kerl,  so  ficht 
redlich.  0  ich  sterb,  ich  sterb,  lat  mich  leben  ! 

Rich.     Sagt  mir  dann,  wer  hat  die  brief e  geschrieben  ?   Lie    95 
nicht,  sondern  sagt  die  wahrheit. 

Jer.  O  mein  frommer,  guter,  edler,  gestrenger  junker,  dor 
ist  das  gelt  und  kett  wieder,  you  soil  alles  haben,  abey  wer  hatt 
die  briefe  geschrieben,  dat  weit  ich  bei  meiner  seele  nicht. 

Rich.     Lieg  dor  still,  still  ich  sag.  100 

The  villain  swears  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  !  {Kills  him] 

Jer.     0  ich  sterb,  awe,  awe,  awe  I   Dat  dich  der  duvel  hole  /  105 

As  Richard  kills  the  Boor,  enter  Saxon  and  the 
Palsgrave 

Sax.     Pfui  dich  an,  loser  schelm,  hastu  dein  gesellen  tot 
geschlagen  ? 

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  115 

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  lie  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  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  villain  wrote 


Sc.  3]     ALPONHSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        431 

I  was  betray'd  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  tyrant  knew  of  this  conspiracy  ; 
Therefore  the  better  to  dive  into  the  depth 
Of  this  most  devilish  murderous  complot,  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; 
Mistaking  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. 

Exeunt  [dragging  in  Hans] 

ACT  III 

[SCENE    I 

A  Room  in  the  Court] 

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  marshal's  Staff  ;  and  all  the  rest  in  their  proper 
apparel,  and  Attendants  and  Pages 

Alex.  Princes  and  princes'  superiors,  lords  and  lords'  fel 
lows,  gentlemen  and  gentlemen's  masters,  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  states  here  assembled,  as  well  masculine  as  feminine,  be  it 
known  unto  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 

authority  of  my  said  office,  to  take  your  places  in  manner 
and  form  following  :  first,  the  Emperor  and  the  Empress,  then 
the  Taster,  the  Secretary,  the  Forester,  the  Physician  ;  as 
for  the  Chambermaid  and  myself  we  will  take  our  places  at 
the  nether  end  ;  the  Jester  is  to  wait  up  and  live  by  the  10 
crumbs  that  fall  from  the  Emperor's  trencher.  But  now  I 
have  marshalled  you  to  the  table,  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     15 
his  office.     Marshal,  walk  into  the  kitchen  and  see  how  the 
Churfurst  of  Collen  bestirs    himself.        Exituvus  Alexander 

Men.     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  back 

Alp.     Now  by  mine  honour,  my  lord  of  Mentz  plays  the 
fool  the  worst  that  I  ever  saw. 

Ed.     He  does  all  by  contraries,  for  I  am  sure  he  played 
the  wise  man  like  a  fool,  and  now  he  plays  the  fool  wisely.         25 

Alp.     Princes  and  Churfursts,  let  us  frolic  now  j 
This  is  a  joyful  day  to  Christendom, 
When  Christian  princes  join  in  amity. 
Schinck  bowls  of  Rheinpfal[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  last ; 
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  in  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,  es  gilt  a  bowl 
Unto  the  health  of  your  fair  bride  and  Empress. 


Sc.  i]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        433 

Ed.     Sam  Gott,  es  soil  mir  ein  liebe  trunk  sein  !    So  much 
Dutch  have  I  learned  since  I  came  into  Germany. 

Bran.     When  you  have  drunk  a  dozen  of  these  bowls,  50 

So  can  your  majesty  with  a  full  mouth 
Troll  out  high  Dutch  ;  till  then  it  sounds  not  right. 
Drauf,  es  gilt  noch  eins,  Ihr  Majestdt. 

Edw.     Sam  Gott,  lass  Ian  fen. 

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  Prince  th'  Archbishop  of  Collen,  75 

Who  now  is  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,  wilt  du  dis  nacht  bei  me  schlapen  ? 

Hed.     Da  behute  mich  Gott  fur ;  ich  hoffe  Eure  Majestdt 
will's  von  mir  nicht  begehren. 

Ed.     What  says  she  ?     Behute  mich  Gott  fur  ? 

Alp.     She  says  God  bless  her  from  such  a  deed.  85 

Ed.     Tush,  Empress,  clap  thy  hands  upon  thy  head, 
And  God  will  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  [Acx  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  you  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.     I  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-warn' 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  Prince 
should  bring  in,  but  he  hath  neither  seen  Dutch  wood  nor 
English  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,  no 

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 ! 
He  lives,  and  secretly  hath  brought  with  him 
The  Palsgrave  and  the  Duke  of  Saxony,  120 

Clad  like  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  sweetly  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. 

Enter  Alexander,  Collen,  Mentz,  Richard,  Saxon,  Palsgrave, 
CollencooA,  with  a  gammon  of  raw  bacon,  and  links  or 
puddings  in  a  platter  ;  Richard,  Palsgrave,  Saxon,  Mentz, 
like  clowns,  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  yammer  dantzen. 
Alex.     Please  it  your  Highness  to  dance  with  your  bride  ? 
Ed.     Alas  !  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  upspring,  that  is  all. 
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'll  follow  in  the  measure  ;  Marshal,  lead  !  JS5 

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  loffel  morgen,  when  thou  com'st  to  house. 


436       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Acx  III 

Col.     [To  Prince  Edward].     Now  is  your  Grace's  time  to 

steal  away ; 
Look  to't,  or  else  you'll  lie  alone  to-night. 

Edward  steals  away  the  Bride    160 
Alex,  (drinketh  to  the  Palsgrave)     'S  gilt,  bauer. 
Pal.     Sam  Gott ! 

The  Palsgrave  requests  the  Empress. 
Ey  jungfrau,  help  mich  dock  !     Ey  jungfrau,  trink  !     [To 
Alphonsus]     Es  gilt,  guter  freund,  ein  frohlichen  trunk. 

Alp.     Sam  Gott,  mein  freund,  ich  will  gern  bescheid  thun. 
Alphonsus  takes  the  cup  of  the  Palsgrave  and 
drinks  to  the  King  of  Bohemia,  and  after  he 
hath  drunk  puts  poison  into  the  beaker 

Half  this  I  drink  unto  your  Highness'  health  ;  165 

It  is  the  first  since  we  were  join'd  in  office. 

Boh.     I  thank  your  Majesty,  I'll  pledge  you  half. 

A  s  Bohemia  is  a-drinking,  ere  he  hath  drunk  it 
all  out,  Alphonsus  pulls  the  beaker  from  his 
mouth 

Alp.     Hold,  hold,  your  Majesty,  drink  not  too  much. 
Bo h.     What  means  your  Highness  ? 

Alp.     Methinks  that  something  grates  between  my  teeth,   170 
Pray  God  there  be  not  poison  in  the  bowl ! 
Boh.     Marry,  God  forbid  ! 

Alex.  So  were  I  pepper'd. 

Alp.     I  highly  do  mistrust  this  schelmish  boor  ; 
Lay  hands  on  him,  I'll  make  him  drink  the  rest. 

[Pa/.]     Was  ist,  was  ist,  wat  will  you  mit  me  machen  ?      175 
Alp.     Drink  out,  drink  out,  oder  der  duvel  soil  dich  holen. 
Pal.     Ey  gebt  you  to  frieden,  ich  will  gern  trinken. 
Sax.     Drink  not,  Prince  Palatine,  throw  it  on  the  ground  ; 
It  is  not  good  to  trust  his  Spanish  flies. 

[The  Palsgrave  spills  the  wine] 

Boh.     Saxon  and  Palsgrave!    This  cannot  be  good.  180 

Alp.     'Twas  not  for  nought  my  mind  misgave  me  so  ; 
This  hath  Prince  Richard  done  t'  entrap  our  lives. 
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. 
For  my  part  I  feel  no  distemperature. 


Sc.  i]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        437 

How  do  you  feel  yourself  ? 

Alp.  I  cannot  tell, 

Not  ill,  and  yet  methinks  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  the  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  than  hurt.  200 

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  the  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  might  have  worthily  laugh' d  me  to  scorn : 
But  to  be  so  deceiv'd,  so  over-reach'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  thought  of  any, 
But  by  a  man  that  hath  been  so  deceiv'd, 
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.  O'  my  daughter, 

Your  new-betrothed  wife  and  bedfellow. 

Ed.     I  thank  you,  father  ;  indeed,  I  must  confess 
She  is  my  wife,  but  not  my  bedfellow. 

Sax.     How  so,  young  prince  ?     I  saw  you  steal  her  hence,  220 
And,  as  me  thought,  she  went  full  willingly. 

Ed.     'Tis  true,  I  stole  her  finely  from  amongst  you, 
And,  by  the  Archbishop  of  Collen's  help, 
Got  her  alone  into  the  bride-chamber, 

Where  having  lock'd  the  door,  thought  all  was  well.  225 

I  could  not  speak,  but  pointed  to  the  bed ; 


438       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Acx  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  myself, 

And  in  a  moment  slipp'd  between  the  sheets  :  230 

There  lying  in  deep  contemplation, 

The  Princess  of  herself  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  lie  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. 

Alex.     To  bed,  to  bed,  the  Marshal  cries  'tis  time. 

Flourish  of  cornets.     Exeunt 
[Alexander  conceals  himself  behind  the  arras] 

Manent  Saxon,  Richard,  Palsgrave,  Collen,  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  will  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  lives 
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  nephew  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  yet  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  Switzers, 
Who  he  in  ambuscado  not  far  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,  you  will  bear  me  company  ? 

Rich.     I  will,  my  lord. 

Sax.  And  you,  Prince  Palatine  ? 

Pal.     The  Spanish  tyrant  hath  me  in  suspect  280 

Of  poisoning  him,  I'll  therefore  stay  it  out ; 
To  fly  upon  't  were  to  accuse  myself. 

Emp.     If  need  require,  I'll  hide  the  Palatine 
Until  to-morrow,  if  you  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  ! 

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  corner  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  your  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  [Acx  III 

Alex.     The  Prince  of  England,  Saxon,  and  of  Collen, 
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- window,      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.     Will  not  your  Grace  surprise  them  ere  they  fly  ? 

Alp.     No,  let  them  bring  their  purpose  to  effect, 
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  ! 
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  find 
The  dainty  trembling  bride  couch' d  in  her  bed, 
Having  beguil'd  her  bridegroom  of  his  hopes, 
Taking  her  farewell  of  virginity,  330 

Which  she  to-morrow  night  expects  to  lose. 
By  night  all  cats  are  grey,  and  in  the  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  thy  senses  with  delight, 
And  filTd  thy  beating  veins  with  stealing  joy, 
Make  thence  again  before  the  break  of  day. 
What  strange  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.  i]     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.     Good  night.     Sweet  Venus  prosper  thy  attempt ! 

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  life,  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  follow  suddenly  upon  this  rape 

I  hope  to  live  to  see  and  laugh  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  will  not  work, 
Hath  from  my  knife's  point  suck'd  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'  eyes  with  deadly  groans. 
Upon  the  Palsgrave  and  mine  Emperess 
Heavy  suspect  shall  light  to  bruise  their  bones  ; 
Though  Saxon  would  not  suffer  him  to  taste  365 

The  deadly  potion  provided  for  him, 
He  cannot  save  him  from  the  sword  of  justice, 
When  all  the  worJd  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  chamber-doors 
And  rush  upon  my  Empress  and  the  Palsgrave.  375 

Holla  1  Where's  the  captain  of  the  guard  ? 

Enter  Captain  and  Soldiers 
Cap.     What  would  your  Majesty  ? 
Alp.     Take  six  travants  well  arm'd  and  follow. 

They  break  with  violence  into  the  chamber,  and 
Alphonsus  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  !  380 


442      ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Acx  III 

Emp.     O  Emperor,  gentle  husband,  pity  me  ! 

Alp.     Canst  them  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  ! 

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,  Clytemnestra-like, 
Hid  thy  ^Egisthus,  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  Palsgrave  I  confess, 
But  to  no  ill  intent,  your  conscience  knows. 

Alp.     Thy  treasons,  murders,  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  you  friends. 

Alp.     Then  bring  him  forth,  we'll  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. 

[Trailing  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  off  my  head, 
Drag  me  at  horses'  tails,  cut  off  my  nose, 
My  princely  tongue  shall  not  betray  a  prince.  415 

Alp.     That  will  I  try  [Strikes  her]. 

Emp.  O  Heav'n,  revenge  my  shame  ! 

Enter  Palsgrave 
Pal.     Is  Caesar  now  become  a  torturer, 


Sc.  i]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY         443 

A  hangman  of  his  wife,  turn'd  murderer  ? 

Here  is  the  Palatine,  what  wouldst  thou  more  ? 

Alp.     Upon  him,  soldiers,  strike  him  to  the  ground  !        420 
Emp.     Ah,  soldiers,  spare  the  princely  Palatine  ! 
Alp.     Down  with  the  damn'd  adulterous  murderer!  . 

Kill  him,  I  say  ;    his  blood  be  on  my  head. 

They  kill  the  Palatine 

Run  to  the  tow'r  and  ring  the  larum  bell, 

That  fore  the  world  I  may  excuse  myself,  425 

And  tell  the  reason  of  this  bloody  deed. 

Enter  Edward  in  his  night-gown  and  shirt 

Ed.     How  now  ?  What  means  this  sudden,  strange  alarm  ? 
What  wretched  dame  is  this  with  blubber'd  cheeks, 
And  rent,  dishevell'd  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 ! 

Alp.     Brave  Prince,  be  still ;    as  I  am  nobly  born. 
There  is  no  ill  intended  to  thy  person. 

Enter  Mentz,  Trier,  Brandenburg,  Bohemia 

Men.     Where   is    my    page  ?     Bring    me    my    two-hand 
sword  ! 

Tri.     What  is  the  matter  ?     Is  the  Court  a-fire  ?  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  life, 
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  warn'd  you  of  your  harms, 


444       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Acx  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  all  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  ! 

Men.     The  world  may  pity  and  applaud  the  deed. 

Bran.     Did  never  age  bring  forth  such  heinous  acts.         470 

Ed.     My  senses  are  confounded  and  amaz'd. 

Emp.     The  God  of  Heav'n  knows  my  unguiltiness. 

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  Collen's  charge, 
Cannot  so  lightly  pass  the  mountain  tops.  5 

Rich.     Let's  summon  suddenly  unto  a  parley  ; 
I  do  not  doubt  but  ere  we  need  their  helps, 
Collen  with  all  his  forces  will  be  here. 


Sc.  i]    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        445 

Enter  Collen  with  Drums  and  an  Army 

Your  Holiness  hath  made  good  haste  to-day, 

And  like  a  beaten  soldier  lead  your  troops.  10 

Col.     In  time  of  peace  I  am  an  Archbishop, 
And,  like  a  churchman,  can  both  sing  and  say  ; 
But  when  the  innocent  do  suffer  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  arms  ? 
Richard  of  Cornwall,  what  may  this  intend  ? 
Brother  of  Collen,  no  more  churchman  now  ? 
Instead  of  mitre  and  a  crozier  staff 

Have  you  beta'en  you  to  your  helm  and  targe  ?  20 

Were  you  so  merry  yesterday  as  friends, 
Cloaking  your  treason  in  your  clown's  attire  ? 

Sax.     Mentz,  we  return  the  traitor  in  thy  face. 
To  save  our  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  safe-conduct  in  our  tents  30 

Prince  Edward  and  his  bride,  the  Palatine, 
With  every  one  of  high  or  low  degree 
That  are  suspicious  of  the  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  command. 

Bran.     Ah  me,  since  your  departure,  good  my  lords, 
Strange  accidents  of  blood  and  death  are  happen'd.  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.  45 

Sax.     Let  them  be  presently  deliver'd. 

Col.     Lives  not  the  Palsgrave  too  ? 


446       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Acx  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  yesterday. 

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  ! 

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  strange,  heart-breaking,  mischievous  intents  ! 
Give  me  my  children,  if  you  love  your  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, 
Dying  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   dock,  liebe  tochter,  wo  warst  du  dieselbe  nacht  ? 

Hed.     Als  wo,  wo  sollt'  ich  sein?  Ich  war  im  bette.  90 

Sax.     Warst  du  allein,  so  warst  du  gar  verschrocken. 

Hed.  Ich  hab  nicht  anders  gemeint,  denn  dass  ich  wollt'  allein 
geschlafen  haben,  aber  um  mitternacht  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 
night  ? 

Rich.     Nephew,  I  see  you  were  not  overreach'd  ; 
Although  she  slipp'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  run  together  in  the  larum  ?  100 

Ed.     Alas,  my  lords,  this  is  no  time  to  jest ! 
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.  105 

Sax.     How  now  ?    This  rhymes  not  with  my  daughter's 

speech  ; 
She  says  you  found  her  bed,  and  lay  with  her. 

Ed.     Not  I,  your  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  Fiirst  sagt,  er  hat  nicht  bei  dir  geschlafen. 

Hed.     Es  gefdllt  ihm  also  zu  sagen,  aber  ich  hab  es  wohl  gefiihlet. 

Rich.     She  says,  you  are  dispos'd  to  jest  with  her, 
But  yesternight  she  felt  it  in  good  earnest.  115 

Ed.  Uncle,  these  jests  are  too  unsavoury, 
Ill-suited  to  these  times,  and  please  me  not. 
Hab  ich  bei  you  geschlapen  yesternight  ? 

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  duvel. 

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  [Acx  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  ;    buffet  not  like  boys. 

Rich.     Hold  you  the  one,  and  I  will  hold  the  other. 

Hed.     0  Herr  Gott,  help,  help  !     O  ich  armes  kind  ! 

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  Englishman,  to  thee  I  speak, 

[To  Richard] 

My  hate  extends  to  all  thy  nation, 

Pack  thee  out  of  my  sight,  and  that  with  speed,  140 

Your  English  practices  have  all  too  long 
Muffled  our  German  eyes — pack,  pack,  I  say  ! 

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  !     O,  how  my  heart  doth  swell  !  1 50 
Was  there  no  other  prince  to  mock  but  me  ? 
First  woo,  then  marry  her,  then  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  alive. 

Col.     None  but  a  madman  would  do  such  a  deed.  160 

Sax.     Then,  Collen,  count  me  mad,  for  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 

And  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  life  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. 

Exeunt  [Saxon  and  the  others] 

Manent  Richard  and  Collen 

Col.     Answer  him  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  underbear 
The  weight  of  sorrow  which  doth  bruise  my  soul. 
O  Edward,  O  sweet  Edward,  O  my  lif e  !  185 

O  noble  Collen,  last  of  all  my  hopes, 
The  only  friend  in  my  extremities, 
If  thou  dost  love  me,  as  I  know  thou  dost, 
Unsheathe  thy  sword  and  rid  me  of  this  sorrow. 

Col.     Away  with  abject  thoughts  !     Fie,  princely  Richard  ;  190 
Rouse  up  thyself,  and  call  thy  senses  home  ; 
Shake  off  this  base  pusillanimity, 
And  cast  about  to  remedy  these  wrongs. 

Rich.     Alas,  I  see  no  means  of  remedy ! 

Col.     Then  hearken  to  my  counsel  and  advice.  195 

We  will  intrench  ourselves  not  far  from  hence, 
With  those  small  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'll  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! 
Thus  would  I  tear  him  with  my  teeth  and  nails. 
Had  Saxon  sense,  he  would  conceive  so  much, 

C.D.W.  G  G 


450        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Acx  IV 

And  not  revenge  on  guiltless  Edward's  life. 

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  patience. 
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  within  our  trench.  Exeunt 

[SCENE  II 
A  Room  in  the  Court] 

Enter  Alphonsus,  carried  in  the  Couch  ;  Saxon,  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  entrails  with  a  quenchless  flame  ? 
Drink,  drink,  I  say,  give  drink,  or  I  shall  die  !  5 

Fill  a  thousand  bowls  of  wine  !     Water,  I  say, 
Water  from  forth  the  cold  Tartarian  hills  ! 
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  Majesty,  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,  burns  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  afresh  ;    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  your  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  protest  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? 

Sax.     What  should  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  will  lose  his  own, 
I  shall  be  presently  restor'd  to  health.  65 

Enter  Trier 

Men.     I  would  he  durst  make  good  his  promises. 

Alp.     My  Lord  of  Trier,  how  fares  my  fellow  Emperor  ? 


452       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Acx  IV 

Tri.     His  Majesty  is  eas'd  of  all  his  pains. 

Alp.     O  happy  news  !  Now  have  I  hope  of  health. 

Men.     My  joyful  heart  doth  spring  within  my  body  70 

To  hear  these  words  ; 

Comfort  your  Majesty,  I  will  excuse  you, 
Or,  at  the  least,  will  bear  you  company. 

Alp.     My  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  ? 

Tri.     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. 

Alex,     [drawing}      I  love  my  Prince,  and  have  the  heart  to 
do  it. 

Men.     O,  stay  awhile  ! 

Alex.  Nay,  now  it  is  too  late.  90 

[Stabs  him] 

Bran.    Villain,  what  hast  thou  done  ?  Th'ast  slain  a  prince  1 

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  joys  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  interr'd  with  kingly  pomp, 

Over  thy  tomb  shall  hang  a  sacred  lamp, 

Which  till  the  day  of  doom  shall  ever  burn  ; 

Yea,  after-ages  shall  speak  of  thy  renown, 

And  go  a-pilgrimage  to  thy  sacred  tomb.  115 

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  Mentz] 

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, 
With  masses,  bells,  dirges,  and  burning  lamps  ; 
'Tis  good,  I  envy  not  thy  happiness  : 

But,  ah  !    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, 
Makes  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, 
Ere  long  I  shall  be  thoroughly  reveng'd.  Exit 


454       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [ACT  IV 

[SCENE   III 

The  Courtyard  of  the  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  blood  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  vater,  ich  habe  in  dis  lang,  lang  \vierzig\ 
weeken,  welche  mich  dunket  sein    vierzig    jahr    gewesen,    ein     10 
lutt  Englisch  gelernet,  und  ich  hope,  he  will  me  verstahn,  und 
show  me  a  liitte  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  kingly  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  common  sort.  25 

But,  you  will  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}     30 

Descended  lineally  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 

But  woman's  sighs  move  more  in  manly  hearts  ; 

O,  see  the  hands  she  elevates  to  heaven, 

Behold  those  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  self  : 

This  is  thy  flesh  and  blood,  bone  of  thy  bone, 

A  goodly  boy,  the  image  of  his  sire. 

Turn'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  them : 

For  good  thou  hast  an  heir  indubitate,  55 

Whose  eyes  already  sparkle  majesty, 

Born  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, 

For  thou  thyself,  Edward,  shalt  make  the  third, 

And  be  an  actor  in  this  bloody  scene 

Hed.  Ach  mein  siisse  Eduart,  mein  her z kin,  mein  scherzkin,  70 
mein  herziges,  einiges  herz,  mein  allerlievest  husband,  I  preedee, 
mein  lief,  see  me  freindlich  an  ;  good  sweetheart,  tell  de  trut : 
and  at  least  to  me  and  dein  allerlievest  child  show  pity  !  denn  ich 
bin  dein,  und  du  bist  mein,  du  hast  me  geven  ein  kindelein  ; 
O  Eduart,  siisse  Eduart,  erbarmet  sein  !  75 

Ed.     O  Hedewick,  peace  !   Thy  speeches  pierce  my  soul. 

Hed.     Hedewick  ?  do  your  excellency  hight  me  Hedewick  ? 
Lieve  Eduart,  you  weit  ich  bin  your  allerlieveste  wife. 

Ed.    The  priest,  I  must  confess,  made  thee  my  wife  ; 


456        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Acx  IV 

Curs'd  be  the  damned  villainous  adulterer,  80 

TTiat  with  so  foul  a  blot  divorc'd  our  love. 

Hed .  0  mein  allerliev  ester,  highborn  Furst  und  Herr,  denk, 
dat  unser  Herr  Gott  sits  in  Himmelstrone,  and  sees  dat  heart, 
und  will  my  cause  wohl  rdchen. 

Sax.     Edward,  hold  me  not  up  with  long  delays,  85 

But  quickly  say,  wilt  thou  confess  the  truth  ? 

Ed.     As  true  as  I  am  born  of  kingly  lineage, 
And  am  the  best  Plantagenet  next  my  father, 
I  never  carnally  did  touch  her  body. 

Sax.     Edward,  this  answer  had  we  long  ago  ;  90 

See'st  thou  this  brat  ?     {Seizing  the  child.}     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.     0   Father,   O  mein    Vater,   spare  mein   Kind  I    O 
Eduart,  O  Prince  Eduart,  speak  now  oder  nimmermehr  !   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  am  I  thus  rewarded  ? 
Is  he  not  thine  ?     Speak,  murderous-minded  Prince  !  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  ;  105 

But  thy  not  causeless,  furious,  madding  humour, 
Together  with  thy  daughter's  piteous  cries, 
Whom  as  my  life  and  soul  I  dearly  love, 
Had  thoroughly  almost  persuaded  me 

To  save  her  honour  and  belie  myself;  no 

And  were  I  not  a  prince  of  so  high  blood, 
And  bastards  have  no  sceptre-bearing  hands, 
I  would  in  silence  smother  up  this  blot, 
And,  in  compassion  of  thy  daughter's  wrong, 
Be  counted  father  to  another's  child  ;  115 

For  why,  my  soul  knows  her  unguiltiness. 

Sax.     Smooth  words  in  bitter  sense  ;  is  [this]  thine  answer? 

Hed.     Ei  Vat*r,  gebe  mir  mein  Kind,  de  Kind  ist  mein. 

Sax.     Das  weiss  ich  wohl  ;  ev  sagt,  es  ist  nicht  sein,  therefore 
it  dies.  1 20 

He  dashes  out  the  child's  brains 


Sc.  3]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        457 

Hed.     0  Gott  in  seinem  Trone  I     0  mein  Kind,  mein  Kind  I 

Sax.     There,   murderer,   take   his    head    and   breathless 

limbs ! 

There's  flesh  enough,  bury  it  in  thy  bowels, 
Eat  that,  or  die  for  hunger  ;    I  protest 

Thou  get'st  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, 
Comfort  thyself,  sweet  Hedewick  and  sweet  wife. 

Hed.     Achy  ach  und  wehe,  warum  sagt  your  excellence  nicht 
so  before,  now  ist  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  Eduarl,  now  ich  mark  your  meaning  ;  ich  should  be 
your  whore  ;    mein   Vater,  ich  begehr  upon  meine  knee,  lass 
mich    lieber  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,  dass  mein  unschuld  an  tag  kommen 
mocht'  I  150 

Ed.     Her  blood  be  on  that  wretched  villain's  head 
That  is  the  cause  of  all  this  misery. 

Sax.     Now,  murderous-minded  Prince,  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  born  limbs.  160 

Ed.     O  heavens  and  heavenly  powers,  if  you  be  just, 


458    ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Acx  V 

Reward  the  author  of  this  wickedness. 

Exit  Edward  and  Jailor 

Enter  Alexander 

Alex.     To  arms,  great  Duke  of  Saxony,  to  arms  ! 
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. 

Alex.     O  piteous  spectacle  !    Poor  Princess  Hedewick  !       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  f  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  [bearing  off  the  dead  bodies] 

ACT  V 

[SCENE    I 

A   Field  without  the  Walls] 

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-like  hath  slain  his  own, 
Will  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,  10 

And  mildness  may  prevail  and  take  effect, 
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  parley 

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, 
Myself  will  be  the  executioner, 

And  with  these  poniards  frustrate  all  your  hopes,  30 

Making  you  triumph  in  a  bloody  field. 

Sax.     To  put  you  out  of  doubt  that  we  intend  it, 
Please  it  your  Majesty  to  take  your  seat, 
And  make  a  demonstration  of  your  meaning. 

[Alphonsus  takes  his  seat] 

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  binds  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  us,  what  intends  this  spectacle  ? 

Alp.     To  make  the  certainty  of  their  deaths  more  plain, 


460        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  will  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,  ^ny  lord  Archbishop  of  Collen  ; 

If  we  be  vanquish'd  then  they  must  expect 

Speedy  dispatch  from  these  two  daggers'  points. 

Col.     What  canst  thou,  tyrant,  then  expect  but  death  ? 

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. 

Rich.     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  this  tyranny  ;  70 

And  so  farewell ! 

Emp.  A  thousand  times  farewell, 

Sweet  brother  Richard  and  brave  Prince  of  Collen  ! 

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  knees. 

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.     Pity  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  griefful  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  1  9° 


Sc.  I]      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  you  should  not  meet. 
Good  nephew  and  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. 

Alex.     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.  HO 

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  ?  120 

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!  125 

Alp.     Good  words  !  Thou  seest  thy  life  is  in  our  hands. 

Ed.     I  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  [Acx  V 

I  therefore  count  not  of  a  dignity.    [Noise  of  battle  within] 

Hark,  Edward,  how  they  labour  all  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  the  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  tyrant's  heart 
Can  give  consent,  that  those  thy  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 

Alp.     Those  tears  proceed  from  fury  and  curst  heart ; 
I  know  the  stomach  of  your  English  dames. 

Emp.     No,  Emperor,  these  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 ! 
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  ! 

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 ! 

Alp.     Ah  me,  my  senses  fail,  my  sight  is  gone  ! 

Amazed,  lets  fall  the  daggers 

Alex.     Will  not  your  Grace  dispatch  the  strumpet  Queen  ?  175 
Shall  she  then  live,  and  we  be  doom'd  to  death  ? 
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  ! 

Alp.     Upon  condition  that  thou  wilt  protest 
To  take  revenge  upon  the  murtherers,  185 

Without  respect  of  dignity  or  state, 
Afflict[ing]  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  ! 
How  sure  set  I  the  knife  to  Mentz  his  heart !  ^-j- 

How  cunningly  was  Palsgrave  doom'd  to  death  !        -^ 
How  subtilely  was  Bohem  poisoned  !  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  ! 

Emp.  O  savage  mind  !  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  awhile. 

Emp.  Sweet  nephew,  now  farewell ! 

Alp.     They  are  most  dear  to  me,  whom  thou  must  kill. 


464        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY    [Acx  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  my  dire  deceits, 
That  made  thee  murtherer  of  so  many  souls. 

Alex.     O  Emperor,  how  cunningly  wouldst  thou  entrap 
My  simple  youth  to  credit  fictions  ! 

Thou  kill  my  father  ?  No,  no,  Emperor,  230 

Caesar  did  love  Lorenzo  all  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  night 
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  life. 

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  I 
Not  that  I  do  steadfastly  believe  255 


Sc.  i]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        465 

That  them  did'st  murder  my  beloved  father, 

But  in  mere  pity  of  thy  vanquish'd  state 

I  undertake  this  execution  : 

Yet  for  I  fear  the  sparkling  majesty, 

Which  issues  from  thy  most  imperial  eyes,  260 

May  strike  relenting  passion  to  my  heart, 

And,  after  wound  receiv'd  from  fainting  hand, 

Thou  fall  half-dead  among  thine  enemies, 

I  crave  thy  Highness  leave  to  bind  thee  first. 

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  Collen  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  tell  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  vanquish'd  victory 
And  triumph  in  the  victor's  overthrow. 

Alp.     O,  Alexander,  spare  thy  Prince's  life  !  300 

Alex.     Even  now  thou  didst  entreat  the  contrary. 

Alp.     Think  what  I  am  that  beg  my  life  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  perform' d  my  strange  revenge,  305 

I  will  be  sudden  in  the  execution. 

Alp.     I  will  accept  any  condition. 

Alex.     Then  in  the  presence  of  the  Emperess, 
The  captive  Prince  of  England,  and  myself, 
Forswear  the  joys  of  Heaven,  the  sight  of  God,  310 

Thy  soul's  salvation,  and  thy  Saviour  Christ, 
Damning  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.  315 

Alex.     What !  Wilt  thou  save  thy  life,  and  damn  thy  soul  ? 

Alp.     O,  hold  thy  hand,  Alphonsus  doth  renounce — 

Ed.     Aunt,  stop  your  ears,  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  !     Now  am  I  satisfied  !         [Kills  him] 

Ed.     O  damned  miscreant,  what  hast  thou  done  ?  325 

Alex.     When  I  have  leisure  I  will  answer  thee  ; 
Meanwhile  I'll  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  Collen  as 
prisoners,  and  Soldiers 

Sax.     Bring  forth  these  daring  champions  to  the  block  ! 
Comfort  yourselves,  you  shall  have  company. 
Great  Emperor — Where  is  his  Majesty  ? 
What  bloody  spectacle  do  I  behold  ?  335 


Sc.  i]     ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY        467 

Emp.     Revenge,  revenge,  O  Saxon,  Brandenburg  1 
My  lord  is  slain,  Caesar  is  doom'd  to  death. 

Ed.     Princes,  make  haste,  follow  the  murtherer  ! 

Sax.     Is  Caesar  slain  ? 

Ed.  Follow  the  murtherer  ! 

Emp.     Why  stand  you  gazing  on  another  thus  ?  340 

Follow  the  murtherer  ! 

Sax.  What  murtherer  ? 

Ed.     The  villain  Alexander  hath  slain  his  lord  ! 
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  !  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  !     O  miserable  me  ! 
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  spurn'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. 

Sax.     Friends  have  I  none,  and  that  which  grieves  my  soul 
Is  want  of  foes  to  work  my  wreak  upon  ; 
But  were  you  traitors  four,  four  hundred  thousand, 
Then  might  I  satisfy  myself  with  blood.  365 

Enter  Brandenburg,  Alexander,  and  Soldiers 

;1  />•"         i  fes  ,I.»nA 
Sax.     See,  Alexander,  where  Caesar  lieth  slain, 

The  guilt  whereof  the  traitors  cast  on  thee  ; 
Speak,  canst  thou  tell  who  slew  thy  sovereign  ? 

A  lex.     Why,  who  but  I  ?     How  should  I  curse  myself, 
If  any  but  myself  had  done  this  deed  1  370 

This  happy  hand — bless 'd  be  my  hand  therefore  ! — 
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,  385 

Confounded  your  conceits,  muffled  your  eyes. 
First,  to  begin,  this  villanous  fiend  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  ! 
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's  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  unguiltiness  ; 

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  ! 

0  guiltless  Prince  !     O  me  most  miserable  ! 
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-tow 'r  of  the  fort 

It  was  my  office  to  behold  aloft  435 

The  war's  event ;  and  having  seen  the  end, 

1  saw  how  victory,  with  equal  wings, 

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  fatally  as  he  or  any. 

The  tyrant,  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 

With  dire  revenge  to  rid  him  of  his  life. 

Short  tale  to  make,  I  bound  him  cunningly,  455 

Told  him  of  the  deceit,  triumphing  over  him, 

And  lastly  with  my  rapier  slew  him  dead. 


470        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY  [Acx  V 

Sax.     O,  heavens,  justly  have  you  ta'en  revenge ! 
But  thou,  thou  murtherous,  adulterous  slave, 
What  bull  of  Phalaris,  what  strange  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  effect, 

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  mastiffs  ;  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  curs, 
Instead  of  mastiff-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  [guarded] 

And  now,  my  lords,  Collen,  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.  [       490 

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.     Uncle,  the  weight  of  all  these  miseries 
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  offer. 

Col.     Then  sound  the  trumpets,  and  cry,  Vivat  Cessar  I 

All.     Vivat  Casar  ! 

Col.     Richardus,  Dei  Gratia  Romanorum  Imperator,  semper 
Augustus,  Comes  Cornubics.  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 
Peace  and  abundance  of  all  earthly  joy  I 


FINIS 


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 

Mura,  a  rough  lord,  a  soldier, 
kinsman  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 

Osman,   a  captain  to   Tarifa 

Gaselles,  another  captain 

Caropia,  wife  to  Mura,  first 
beloved  of  Abrahen,  then  of 
A  bilqualit 

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  grac'd  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  justly  may 

Gain  liking  from  you  all,  unless  those  few  15 

Who  will  dislike,  be't  ne'er  so  good,  so  new ; 

The  rather,  gentlemen,  he  hopes,  'cause  I 

Am  a  main  actor  in  this  tragedy : 

You've  grac'd  me  sometimes  in  another  sphere, 

And  I  do  hope  you'll  not  dislike  me  here.  20 

ACTUS  PRIMUS  SCENA  I 

[A  Room  in  the  Court] 
Enter  Selinthus,  Gaselles,  and  Osman. 

Sel.     No  murmurings,  noble  Captains ! 

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  sutler's  palace  on  pay-day  5 

We  may  the  precious  liquor  quaff,  and  kiss 
His  buxom  wife;  who  though  she  be  not  clad 

475 


476  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acr  I 

In  Persian  silks  or  costly  Tynan  purples 

Has  a  clean  skin,  soft  thighs,  and  wholesome  corps, 

Fit  for  the  trailer  of  the  puissant  pike  10 

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  15 

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  salad, 
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  tune.     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  ungracious  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  mistress 

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.  Want  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. 

Enter  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  face. 

Gas,  Doubt  not  our  truths  ;  80 

Though  we  be  given  much  to  contradictions, 
We  will  not  pawn  oaths  of  that  nature. 

Sel.  Well  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,  85 

Make  us  not  such  a  stranger  to  your  thoughts, 
To  consume  all  your  honours  in  close  retirements  ; 
Perhaps  since  you  from  Spain  return'd  a  victor, 
With  the  world's  conqueror,  Alexander,  you  grieve 
Nature  ordain'd  no  other  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  J  ;  c, ,  *<>5 

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  i'  th'  Court ! 

Sel.  What  makes  your  grave  lordship  1 10 

In  it,  I  do  beseech  you  ?     But,  sir,  mark  me, 
The  kernel  of  the  text  enucleated, 
I  shall  confute,  refute,  repel,  refel, 
Explode,  exterminate,  expunge,  extinguish 

Like  a  rush-candle,  this  same  heresy,  115 

That  is  shot  up  like  a  pernicious  mushroom 
To  poison  true  humanity. 

[Abilqualit  going  is  detained  by  Abrahen] 

Abr,  You  shall  stay 

And  hear  a  lecture  read  on  your  disease  ; 
You  shall,  as  I  love  virtue. 

Sel.  First,  the  cause,  then, 

From  whence  this  flatus  hypochondriacus,  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  amrm'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  consider'd, 
Ponder'd,  perpended,  or  premeditated. 

Sim.     My   lord,    y'ad   best   be   brief,   your   patient 
Will  be  weary  else. 

Sel.  I  cannot  play 

The  fool  rightly,  I  mean  the  physician,  1 35 

Without  I  have  licence  to  [expatiate] 
On  the  disease.     But,  my  good  lord,  more  briefly, 
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  turn'd  up 
By  the  irons  royal,  he  will  be  as  pensive  145 

As  stallion  after  [coition],  when  he  wants 


480        REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR       [ACT  I 

Suits,  begging  suits,  I  mean.     [To  Simanthes]     Methinks, 

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. 

Enter  Tarifa 

Tar.     What,  at  your  counsels,  lords  ?  The  great  Almanzor 
Requires  your  presence,  Mura ;  has  decreed 
The  war  for  Persia.     You,  my  gracious  lord,  170 

Prince  Abilqualit,  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  ! 

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  180 

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. 

Abil.  Good  Selinthus, 

Vouchsafe  awhile  your  absence,  I  shall  have  185 

Employment  shortly  for  your  trust. 

Sel.  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 !    Be  more  sprightly ; 
Your  sad  appearance,  should  they  thus  behold  you, 
Would  half  unsoul  your  army. 

Abil.  'Tis  no  matter. 

Such  looks  best  suit  my  fortune.     Know,  Tarifa,  205 

I'm  undispos'd  to  manage  this  great  voyage, 
And  must  pot  undertake  it. 

Tar.  Must  not,  sir  ! 

Is't  possible  a  love-sick  youth,  whose  hopes 
Are  fix'd  on  marriage,  on  his  bridal  night 
Should  in  soft  slumbers  languish,  that  your  arms  210 

Should  rust  hi  ease,  now  when  you  hear  the  charge, 
And  see  before  you  the  triumphant  prize 
Destin'd  t'adorn  your  valour  ?     You  should  rather 
Be  furnish'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.  I 


482  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  I 

Than  utter'd  such  a  sound,  harsh  and  unwelcome. 

Abil.     I  know  thou  lov'st  me  truly,  and  durst  I 
To  any  born  of  woman  speak  my  intentions,  220 

The  fatal  cause  which  does  withdraw  my  courage 
From  this  employment,  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  loyalty  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  inevitable  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  !     Though  I  would  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 

With  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 


Sc.  i]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  483 

In  viperous  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  language  : 

"Pis  unchaste  love,  Tarifa  (nay,  take't  all, 

And  when  thou  hast  it,  pity  my  misfortunes), 

To  fair  Caropia,  the  chaste,  virtuous  wife 

To  surly  Mura. 

Tar.  What  a  fool  desire  is !  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. 

Abil.  I  was  certain  270 

'Twould  fright  thy  innocence,  and  look  to  be 
Besieged  with  strong  dissuasions  from  my  purpose  ; 
But  be  assur'd  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  fruitless. 
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. 

Tar.     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  pleasure. 
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, 
LulTd,  as  it  were,  into  your  infant  sleeps 
By  th'  surly  noise  o'  th'  trumpet,  which  now  summons 
You  to  victorious  use  of  your  endowments  :  295 

And  shall  a  mistress  stay  you  ?    Such  a  one  too, 
As  to  attempt  than  war  itself 's  more  dangerous  ! 

Abil.     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  joys  of  health  and  life,  a  soul  300 

Condemn 'd  to  perpetuity  of  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  305 

Which  I  would  haste  to  bathe  in,  and  pass  through  them 

With  that  delight  thou  wouldst  to  victory, 

Or  slaves  long-chain'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  in  his  lust, 
Or  man  in  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  !  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  fears, 
Like  an  adventurous  mariner  that  knows 
Storms  must  attend  him,  yet  dares  court  his  peril, 
Strive  to  obtain  this  happy  port.     Mesithes,  340 


Sc.  i]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  485 

Love's  cunning  advocate,  does  for  me  besiege 

With  gifts  and  vows  her  chastity.     She  is 

Compass'd  with  flesh  that's  not  invulnerable, 

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  ! 

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  employment  ? 

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  ! 

Alas,  'tis  fit  I  first  should  know  those  arts 
That  do  distinguish  valour  from  wild  rashness 
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  great  Almanzor,  shall  be  the  trophy  375 

Of  thy  yet  maiden  valour.     I  have  done 


486  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  I 

Enough  already  to  inform  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  born  for  victory. 

Abr.  "Pis  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  my  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. 

Abil.  Why,   my  Abrahen, 

We're  both  his  sons,  and  should  be  both  alike 
Dear  to's  affections  ;    and  though  birth  hath  given  me 
The  larger  hopes  and  titles,  'twere  unnatural,  395 

Should  he  not  strive  t'  endow  thee  with  a  portion 
Apted  to  the  magnificence  of  his  offspring. 
But  thou  perhaps  art  timorous  lest  thy  first 
Essays  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. 

Abr.     You  imagine  me 

Beyond  all  thought  of  gratitude,  and  doubt  not  405 

That  I'll  deceive  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  410 

When  we  are  chang'd  to  ashes. 

Abil.  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 

A  br.  Farewell,  gracious  brother  ! 

This  haps  above  my  hopes.     'Las,  good  dull  fool,  415 


Sc.  i]  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  father'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  shall  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  ! 

Sovereignty's  only  sacred  ;    greatness  goodness  ; 

True  self-affection  justice  ;    everything 

Righteous  that's  helpful  to  create  a  King. 

Enter  Mura,  Simanthes 

My  trusty  friends,  y'are  welcome  ;  44° 

Our  fate's  above  our  wishes  ;    Abilqualit, 
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 
With  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  HONOUR  [Acx  II 

ACTUS  SECUNDUS,  SCENA    I 

[A  Room  in  the  Court] 
Enter  Almanzor,  Mura,  and  Simanthes 

Aim.     How  ?    Not  go,  Simanthes  ? 

Sim.  My  dread  Sovereign, 

I  speak  but  what  the  well-affected  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  nourishing  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  !),  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  vanquish' d  by  his  valour,  25 

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  thek  downy  heads.     Sir,  good  success 


Sc.  i]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  489 

Is  oft  more  fatal  far  than  bad  ;  one  winning 

Cast  from  a  flatt'ring  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  affections 
As  he  does  enemies,  should  not  be  expos 'd 
To  every  new  cause,  honourable  danger. 
Prince  Abilqualit'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 

Whate'er  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  Abilqualit.     We'll  consider  55 

Of  their  request,  say. 

Sim.  Your  Highness'  humblest  creature  !      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  affect  not  words  ; 
But  to  be  brief,  I  relish  not  your  son 

Should  (as  if  you  were  hi  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  affections,  70 


490  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  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  75 

Of  the  Prince  Abilqualit.     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, 
As  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,  until  they  burst  with't. 

Aim.     Thy  words  are  still  oraculous. 

Mur.  Pray  then  think 

With  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  Mura. 

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  succours,  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'd. 
And  now  I  have  discharg'd  my  honest  conscience, 
Censure  on't  as  you  please  ;    henceforth  I'm  silent. 

Aim.     Would  thou  hadst  been  so  now  !  Thy  loyal  fears          1 50 
Have  made  me  see  how  miserable  a  king  is 


492  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  II 

Whose  rule  depends  on  the  vain  people's  suffrage. 

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  actions 

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. 

Enter  Abilqualit 

Abilqualit  ! 
Come  to  take  your  leave,  I  do  conjecture. 

Abil.     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'  Persian  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  affection 
To  the  young  Prince,  my  brother,  did  beget 
This  my  request ;    I  willingly  would  have  175 

His  youth  adorn'd  with  glory  of  this  conquest. 
No  tree  bears  fruit  in  autumn,  'less  it  blossom 
First  in  the  spring ;    'tis  fit  he  were  acquainted 
In  these  soft  years  with  military  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,    henceforth,   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  know  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  rising  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  from  195 

Success,  their  gilt  reflection  does  display 
The  largest  shows  of  events  fair  and  prosp'rous. 
With  what  a  settled  confidence  did  I  promise 
Myself  my  stay  here,  Mura's  wish'd  departure  ! 
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. 

Enter  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  !     If  I  can  be  thus  subtle 
While  a  young  serpent,  when  grown  up  a  dragon  210 

How  glorious  shall  I  be  in  cunning  practice  ! — 
My  gracious  brother  ! 

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  215 

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  obedience  to  his  pleasure, 
Be  it  nor  just,  nor  honourable. 


494  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  II 

Abil.  O  my  Abrahen, 

These  sounds  are  unharmonious,  as  unlock' d-f or 
From  thy  unblemish'd  innocence  ;  though  he  could  225 

Put  off  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,  Abrahen  ! 

A  br.     I  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, 
He  has  set  spies  upon  you. 

A  bil.  'Tis  so  ;  afflictions 

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  presag'd  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 

But.  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  off  which  does  make  him  so,  his  sweetness, 

To  feed  the  irregular  flames  of  false  suspicions 

And  soul-tormenting  jealousies. 

Abr.  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  affect,  '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  ! — my  best  manhood  scarce 
Could  keep  my  angry  tears  in  ;  I  resolv'd  280 

I  was  in  duty  bound  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.  285 

Abil.     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  sufferance, 
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 

Enter  Selinthus  and  Mesithes 

Sel.  Come,  I  know, 

Although  th'ast  lost  some  implements  of  manhood 
May  make  thee  gracious  in  the  sight  of  woman, 
Yet  th'ast  a  little  engine  calFd  a  tongue, 

By  which  thou  canst  o'ercome  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. 

Mes.  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  ! 

A  br.  [aside]     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  lieutenant  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  little  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  concern' d  a  limber  petticoat, 
And  the  smock  soft  and  slippery ;  on  my  honour, 
Has  been  providing  for  the  Prince  some  female,  335 


Sc.  i]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  497 

That  he  takes  his  leave  of  ladies'  flesh 
Ere  his  departure. 

Abr.  Not  improbable, 

It  may  be  so. 

Sfl.  Nay,  certain,  sir,  it  is  so  : 

And  I  believe  your  little  body  earns 

After  the  same  sport.     You  were  once  reported  34° 

A  wag  would  have  had  business  of  engend'ring 
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. 

Abr.  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 

Sfl.  No,  truly,  35° 

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  off. 
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  prepar'd 
At  all  times  for  the  journey. 

Sel.  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 

C.D.W.  K  K 


4Q8  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  II 

To  try  if  strange  flesh,  or  that  of  our  own  country,  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. 

Abil.  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  10 

To  receive  kindness,  than  from  thee,  an  eunuch. 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  499 

You  are  the  coldest  creatures  in  the  bodies; 
No  snow-balls  like  you. 

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. 

Abil,     Caropia,  in  your  well-becoming  pity 
Of  my  extreme  afflictions  and  stern  sufferings 
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  resistance 
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,  born  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  plighted.     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  [ACT  III 

Must  i'  th'  infancy  of  our  desires 
Breathe  at  unwelcome  distance ;  i'  th'  meantime 
Let's  make  good  use  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. 
\    Abil.  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 

[Another  Room  in  the  House  of  Mura] 

Enter  Abilqualit  and  Caropia,  as  rising  from  bed  ;  Abrahen  without, 

Perilinda 

Abr.   [without].     Open  the  door!     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  him  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  15 

Has  notice  of  your  being  here,  and's  coming 


Sc.  i]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  501 

On  wings  of  jealousy  and  desperate  rage 

To  intercept  you  in  your  close  delights. 

In  brief,  I  overheard  a  trusty  servant 

Of  his  i'  th'  camp  come  and  declare  your  Highness  20 

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  ^o 

Defend  her  from  his  violence.     I'll  stay 
Though  he  come  arm'd  with  thunder. 

Abr.  That  will  be 

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 

Giving  fresh  fire  to  th'  injury,  will  incense  him 
Gainst  her  beyond  all  patience. 

Car.  Nay,  besides, 

His  violent  wrath,  breaking  through  his  allegiance, 
May  riot  on  your  person.     Dear  my  lord, 

Withdraw  yourself ;  there  may  be  some  excuse,  40 

When  you  are  absent,  thought  on  to  take  off 
Mura's  suspicion  :  by  our  loves,  depart, 
I  do  beseech  you.     Hapless  I  was  born 
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  enforce  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  ? 
Demolish'd  now,  and  ruin'd  they  appear, 


502  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  III 

Like  a  fair  building  totter'd  from  its  base  55 

By  an  unruly  whirlwind,  and  are  now 
Instead  of  love  the  objects  of  my  pity. 

Car.     I'm  bound  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  horrors  60 

Rage  could  invest  his  powers  with,  not  forgiven 
Hermits  with  greater  peace  shall  haste  to  death, 
Than  I  to  be  the  martyr  of  this  cause, 
Which  I  so  love  and  reverence. 

A  br.  'Tis  a  noble 

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  flames, 
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. 

Abr.  '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  you, 


Sc.  i]  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  Mura 
To  their  eternal  mansions,  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  accomplish'd  as  the  blest  desires 
Of  uncross'd  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  ! 

Abr.     Obtained  by  violence  entry  into  your  chamber, 
Where  his  big  lust,  seconded  by  force, 
Despite  of  yours  and  your  maid's  weak  resistance 
Surpris'd  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  son. 


504  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acr  III 

Abr.  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  Abilqualit's   action. — [Enter  Mura]     See  your 

husband ! 
Resolve  on't,  or  y'are  miserable. 

Mur.  Furies  ! 

Where  is  this  lustful  prince,  and  this  lascivious 
Strumpet  ?  Ha,  Abrahen  here  ! 

Abr.  Good  cousin  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  suff'rings 
From  minds  resolv'd  and  noble.     'Las  poor  lady  ! 
'Twas  not  her  fault ;  his  too  unruly  lust  145 

'Tis,  has  destroy'd  her  purity. 

Mur.  Ha,  in  tears  ! 

Are  these  the  livery  of  your  fears  and  penitence, 
Or  of  your  sorrows,  minion,  for  being  robb'd 
So  soon  of  your  adulterer  ? 

Abr.  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. 

Mur.  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  !  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  affliction. 

Car.  You're  as  my  good  angel ; 

I'll  follow  your  directions.  Exit 

Abr.  Cousin  Mura, 

I  thought  a  person  of  your  masculine  temper, 
In  dangers  foster'd,  where  perpetual  terrors 
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  faculties, 
Which  are  so  much  oppress 'd  with  in  juries, 
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  enlighten'd  by  my  anger 
Shall  be  my  own  pile,  and  consume  to  ashes.  190 

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  exclaims  ?  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  you  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  new  wars  205 


506  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR          [Acx  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  the  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  Caropia's  fate  invoke  thy  vengeance  225 

To  gain  full  mast'ry  o'er  all  other  passions  ; 
Leave  not  a  corner  in  thy  spacious  heart 
Unfurnish'd  of  a  noble  rage,  which  now 
Will  be  an  attribute  of  glorious  justice  : 

The  law,  you  know,  with  loss  of  sight  doth  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  offender 
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'ershade  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  yields  you  free  access  unto  the  empire  ; 
The  deprival  of's  sight  does  render  him  incapable  245 

Of  future  sovereignty. 


Sc.  I]  REVENGE  •  FOR  HONOUR  507 

Abr.  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  once, 
As  we  will  have  him  shortly  ('t  shall  go  hard  else)  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. 

Abr.  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. 

A  br.  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, 
Affairs  by  diligent  labour  only  thrive.  Exeunt 

SCENA  SECUNDA 
Bfcor'ifc,.-  *>l..:-i-J  F.!.,i<f-v>, 

[The  Camp,  outside  the  city] 
Enter  Selinthus,  Gasellcs,  Osman,  and  Soldiers 

Sel.     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 
Have  fighting  work  enough  when  you're  i'  th'  wars ; 
Do  not  fall  out  among  yourselves. 

Os.  Not  pledge 


508  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  III 

My  peerless  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  !  10 

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  learn' d  pamphlets 
That  fly  about  the  streets,  would  satisfy  15 

Thy  curiosity  with  news  ;  they're  true  ones, 
Full  of  discreet  intelligence. 

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,  20 

The  '  Soldier's  Joy '  'tis  call'd. 

Sel.  That  is  an  harlot ; 

Prithee  be  musical,  and  let  us  taste 
The  sweetness  of  thy  voice.  A  song 

Gas.  Whist,  give  attention  ! 

Soldier.     How  does  your  lordship  like  it  ? 

Sel.  Very  well, 

And  so  here's  to  thee  !     There's  no  drum  beats  yet,  25 

And  'tis  clear  day  ;  some  hour  hence  'twill  be 
Time  to  break  up  the  watch.     Enter  Abrahen,  Mesithes 

Ha,  young  Lord  Abrahen, 

And  trim  Mesithes  with  him  !     What  the  devil 
Does  he  make  up  so  early  ?     He  has  been 
A  bat-fowling  all  night  after  those  birds,  3° 

Those  lady-birds  term'd  wagtails.     What  strange  business 
Can  he  have  here,  trow  ? 

Abr.  'Twas  well  done,  Mesithes  ! 

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  eunuch  ; 
Thou'rt  half  the  soul  of  Abrahen. 

Mes.  I  was  born  :          , 

To  be  intituled  your  most  humble  vassal ; 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  509 

I'll  haste  to  the  Lord  Simanthes.  Exit 

Sel.  How  he  cringes  ! 

These  youths  that  want  the  instruments  of  manhood  40 

Are  very  supple  in  the  hams. 

Abr.  Good  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  him  ; 
And  not  a  soldier  here  but's  an  Achilles, 
Valiant  as  stoutest  Myrmidon. 

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  stern  law's  rigour ; 
And  'tis  imagin'd  our  impartial  father 
Will  sentence  him  to  lose  his  eyes. 

Gas.  Marry,  Heaven 

Defend  I     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  diminish' d,  we  will  lose 
Our  heads  ;  what,  hoodwink  men  like  sullen  hawks 
For  doing  deeds  of  nature  !     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  !     'Slife,  a  prince, 
And  such  a  hopeful  one,  to  lose  his  eyes, 

For  satisfying  the  hunger  of  the  stomach  70 

Beneath  the  waist,  is  cruelty  prodigious, 
Not  to  be  suffer' d  in  a  commonwealth 
Of  ought  but  geldings. 

Abr.  'Tis  vain  to  soothe 


5io  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  III 

Our  hopes  with  these  delusions  ;  he  will  suffer, 

Less  he  be  rescued.     I  would  have  you,  therefore,  75 

If  you  owe  any  service  to  the  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,  85 

Will  thank  you  for  your  loyalties.     Pray  be  there 
With  all  speed  possible  ;  by  this  my  brother's 
Commanded  '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,  Osman  and  Soldiers] 

Tar.     You  will  not  do  this,  Mura  ! 

Mur.  How,  Tarifa  ? 

Will  you  defend  him  in  an  act  so  impious  ? 
Is't  fit  the  drum  should  cease  his  surly  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  ! 

Enter  Abilqualit  [with]  Mutes,  whispering,  seem  to  make 
protestations.     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  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  rlo^o  J35 

On  that  unhappy  object  of  your  love, 
Whom  now  y'ave  maue  the  spoil  of  your  foul  lust, 
The  much  wrong'd  wife  of  Mura. 

Abil.  Why,  does  Mura 

Charge  me  with  his  Caropia's  rape  ? 

Tar.  This  warrant, 

Sent  by  your  angry  father,  testifies  140 

He  means  to  appeach  you  of  it.  . 


5i2  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  IV 

AUl.  [aside]  'Tis  my  fortune, 

All  natural  motions  when  they  approach  their  end, 
Haste  to  draw  to't  with  [un]accustom'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  I  ruin  ; 
Who  dares  not  die  to  justify  his  love, 
Deserves  not  to  enjoy  her.     Come,  Tarifa, 
Whate'er  befall,  I'm  resolute.     He  dies  150 

Glorious,  that  falls  Love's  innocent  sacrifice.  Exeunt 


ACTUS   QUARTUS,   SCENA    I 

[A  Room  in  the  Court] 
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  5 

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  bootless 
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  offspring,  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  513 

I  lov'd  the  lady,  and  when  no  persuasions  35 

Serv'd  to  prevail  on  her  too  stubborn,  incens'd, 

By  force  I  sought  my  purpose  and  obtain'd  it ; 

Nor  do  I  yet  (so  much  I  prize  the  sweetness 

Of  that  unvalued  purchase)  find  repentance 

In  any  abject  thought ;  whate'er  falls  on  me  30 

From  your  stern  rigour  in  a  cause  so  precious, 

Will  be  a  pleasing  punishment. 

Aim.  You  are  grown 

A  glorious  malefactor,  that  dare  brave  thus 
The  awful  rod  of  justice  !     Lost  young  man, 
For  thou'rt  no  child  of  mine,  dost  not  consider  35 

To  what  a  state  of  desperate  destruction 
Thy  wild  lust  has  betray'd  thee  ?     What  rich  blessings 
(That  I  may  make  thee  sensible  of  thy  sins 
By  showing  thee  thy  suffering)  hast  thou  lost 
By  thy  irregular  folly  !     First  my  love,  40 

Which  never  more  must  meet  thee,  scarce  in  pity  ; 
The  glory  flowing  from  thy  former  actions 
Stopp'd  up  for  ever ;  and  those  lustful  eyes 
(By  whose  deprival  thou'rt  depriv'd  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,  Mutes 

Of  justice  on  the  unworthy  traitor,  upon  whom 

My  just  wak'd  wrath  shall  have  no  more  compassion 

Than  the  incens'd  flames  have  on  perishing  wretches  50 

That  wilfully  leap  into  them. 

Tar.  O  my  Lord, 

That  which  on  others  would  be  fitting  justice, 
On  him  your  hopeful,  though  offending,  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  wield  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  vain,  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. 

Mu¥.  I  ask  but  justice  ; 

Those  eyes  that  led  him  to  unlawful  objects,  80 

'Tis  fit  should  suffer  for't  a  lasting  blindness ; 
The  Sun  himself,  when  he  darts  rays  lascivious, 
Such  as  engender  by  too  piercing  fervence 
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,  will  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, 
O'ercome  your  piety,  nay,  your  human  pity. 


Sc.  i]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  515 

'Tis  in  your  breast,  my  lord,  yet  to  show  mercy,  105 

That  precious  attribute  of  heaven's  true  goodness, 
Even  to  yourself,  your  son  !  Methinks  that  name 
Should  have  a  power  to  interdict  your  justice 
In  its  too  rigorous  progress. 

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  uncorrupted  equity  ;  nor  repine 
I  at  my  destiny  ;  my  eyes  have  had 

Delights  sufficient  in  Caropia'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  tormentors, 
Thou  mayst  unto  succession  show  my  innocence  ; 
Caropia  yielded  without  least  constraint,  130 

And  I  enjoy'd  her  freely. 

Tar.  How,  my  lord  ! 

Abil.     No  words  on't, 
As  you  respect  my  honour  !  I'd  not  lose 
The  glory  I  shall  gain  by  these  my  sufferings  ; 
Come,  grim  furies,  135 

And  execute  your  office ;  I  will  stand  you, 
Unmov'd  as  hills  at  whirlwinds,  and  amidst 
The  torments  you  inflict  retain  my  courage. 

Aim.     Be  speedy,  villains  ! 

[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  ? 


516  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  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  deed  of  shame  was  acted. 

Mur.  'Tis  his  fears 

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  fame 
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 

Tar.     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. 

Abil.  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  yielded  !     Not  the  light 

Is  half  so  innocent  as  her  spotless  virtue.  170 

[Aside  to  Tarifa]     'Twas  not  well  done,  Tarifa,  to  betray 
The  secret  of  your  friend  thus ;  though  she  yielded, 
The  terror  of  ten  thousand  deaths  shall  never 
Force  me  to  confess  it. 

Tar.  Again,  my  lord,  even  now 

He  does  confess  she  yielded,  and  protests  175 

That  death  shall  never  make  him  say  she's  guilty  : 
The  breath  scarce  pass'd  his  lips  yet. 

Abil.  Hapless  man, 

To  run  into  this  lunacy  !     [Aside  to  Tarifa]     Fie,    Tarifa, 
So  treacherous  to  your  friend  ! 

Tar.  Again,  again  1 


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  unexemplified.     O  brother, 

That  I  should  ever  live  to  enjoy  my  eyesight,  185 

And  see  one  half  of  your  dear  lights  endanger'd. 
My  lord,  you've  done  an  act  which  my  just  fears 
Tells  me  will  shake  your  sceptre  !     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  full  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  shall  not 
Boast  you  have  got  the  Empire  by  our  ruin  : 
Mutes,  strangle  him  immediately ! 

A  br.  Avert 

Such  a  prodigious  mischief,  heaven  !     Hark,  hark !  200 

[Cries  without]  Enter,  Enter. 
[Abr.]  They're  enter'd  into  th'  Court;    [to  the  Mutes]  desist, 

you  monsters ! 

My  life  shall  stand  betwixt  his  and  this  violence, 
Or  I    with   him   will   perish.     [Calling    to    those    without}. 

Faithful  soldiers, 
Haste  to  defend  your  Prince,  curse  on  your  slowness ! 

[Abilqualit  falls.-] 

[Aside]    He's  dead  ;    my  father's  turn  is  next. — O  horror,  205 
Would  I  might  sink  into  forgetfulness  ! 
What  has  your  fury  urg'd  you  to  ? 

Aim.  To  that 

Which  whoso  murmurs  at,  is  a  faithless  traitor 
To    oui    tranquillity.     [Enter  Simanthes].     Now,  sir,    your 
business  ? 

Sim.     My  lord,  the  city  210 

Is  up  in  arms  in  rescue  of  the  Prince ; 
The  whole  Court  throngs  with  soldiers. 


5i8  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  IV 

Aim.  'Twas  high  time 

To  cut  this  viper  off,  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  ! 

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  ? 

Tar.  No  ;  you're  a  tyrant, 

One  that  delights  to  feed  on  your  own  bowels, 
And  were  not  worthy  of  a  son  so  virtuous.          [Kneeling] 
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  yielded. 


Sc.  i]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  519 

Aim.  Rise,  Tarifa ; 

We  do  command  thee  rise.     A  sudden  chillness,  245 

Such  as  the  hand  of  winter  casts  on  brooks, 
Thrills  our  ag'd  heart.     I'll  not  have  thee  engross 
Sorrow  alone  for  Abilqualit'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  of  the  greatest  hope 
It  ere  shall  boast  again.     Would  I  were  ashes  ! 

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 ! 
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 !  [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  grief's  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  !     Help,  help  ! 

[Enter}  Abrahen,  Simanthes,  Mesithes,  Mutes 

A  br.  What  dismal  outcry's  this  ? 

Our  royal  father  dead  ! 
[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  much-lov'd  son  to  timeless  death,  280 

Could  not  endure  longer  on  its  weak  strings, 


520  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  IV 

But  crack'd  with  weight  of  sorrow.     Their  two  spirits 
By  this  are  met  in  their  delightful  passage 
To  the  blest  shades ;  we  in  our  tears  are  bound 
To  call  you  our  dread  Sovereign. 

Omnes.  Long  live  Abrahen,       285 

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  thought  of  them,  even  in  our  sorrows 
Which  are  so  mighty  on  us  ;  our  weak  spirits  290 

Are  ready  to  relinquish  the  possession 
They've  of  mortality,  and  take  swift  flight 
After  our  royal  friends.     Simanthes,  be  it 
Your  charge  to  see  all  fitting  preparation 
Provided  for  the  funerals.  295 

Enter  Selinthus 

Sel.     Where's  great  Almanzor  ? 
Abr.  O,  Selinthus,  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,  300 

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  death  and  destruction 
To  pursue  sullen  Mura. 

Abr.  Tarifa,  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  royal  bodies 
And  place  them  on  that  couch ;  here  where  they  fell,          310 
They  shall  be  embalm'd.     Yet  put  them  out  of  our  sight, 
Their  views  draw  fresh  drops  from  our  heart.     Anon 
We'll  show  ourselves  to  cheer  the  afflicted  subject. 

A  shout 
Omnes.     Long  live  Abrahen,  great  Caliph  of  Arabia  ! 

Exeunt  [all  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  much  joy 
As  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 

Transferr'd  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.  Exit 

Abil.  [rising].     '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  health 
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  liv'd  for  ever  340 

Doom'd  to  perpetual  darkness,  rather  than 
Tarifa's  fears  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  wert  pitiless,  my  heart 
Weeps  tears  of  blood,  to  see  thy  age  thus  like 
A  lofty  pine  fall,  eaten  through  by  th'  gin, 
From  its  own  stock  descending.     He  has  agents 
In  his  ungracious  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  355 

When't  shall  appear  I'm  living,  will  reduce 
The  people  to  my  part ;  the  army's  mine, 


522  kEV£NGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acx  IV 

Whither  I  must  withdraw  unseen ;  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  myself  ;  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  return'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  imminent  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  ! 

Enter  Mura    [exit  Perilinda] 

Mur.  My  Caropia, 

Dress  up  thy  looks  in  their  accustom'd  beauties  ;  15 

Call  back  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  foul  thief  robb'd  thee  of  thy  honour  20 

By  his  ungracious  violence,  has  met 
His  royal  father's  justice. 

Car.  Now  my  fears 

Carry  too  sure  an  augury  !  You  would  fain 
Soothe  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  ? 

Mur.  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  constrain'd,  thou  yielded'st  to  the  looseness  35 

Of  his  wild,  vicious  flames. 

Car.  Could  he  be  so 

Unjust,  my  lord  ? 

Mur.  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  whiter  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  dull, 
And  dost  not  gratulate  with  happy  welcomes 
The  triumphs  of  thy  vengeance. 

Car.  Are  you  sure,  my  lord, 

The  Prince  is  dead  ? 

Mur.  Pish,  I  beheld  him  breathless! 

Take  comfort,  best  Caropia,  thy  disgrace  55 

Did  with  his  loath'd  breath  vanish. 

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  performance  ; 
Methinks  't  had  been  far  nobler  had  you  call'd  him  60 

To  personal  satisfaction  :  had  I  been 


524  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acr  IV 

Your  husband,  you  my  wife,  and  ravish'd  by  him, 

My  resolution  would  have  arm'd  my  courage 

To  Jve  stroke  him  thus.     The  dead  Prince  sends  you  that ! 

Stabs  him 

Mur.     O,  I  am  slain  ! 

Car.  Would  it  were  possible  65 

To  kill  even  thy  eternity  !     Sweet  Prince, 
How  shall  I  satisfy  thy  unhappy  ruins  ! 
Ha,  not  yet  breathless  ?     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  !)  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,  Soldiers 

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 !  We'll  talk  with  you  90 

At  better  leisure  :  you  must  needs  be  ravished 
And  could  not,  like  an  honest  woman,  take 
The  courtesy  in  friendly  sort ! 


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  ! 
Let's  tear  him  piecemeal !    Do  you  take  your  death 
In  silence,  dog ! 

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.  [Seizing  Caropia] 

Enter  Tarifa 

Tar.  Slaves,  unhand 

The  lady ;  who  dares  offer  her  least  violence,  105 

From  this  hand  meets  his  punishment.     Gaselles, 
Osman,  I  thought  you  had  been  better  temper'd 
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  ! 

There  is  some  hopes,  then,  we  shall  gain  our  pardons. 
Long  live  great  Abrahen  !     Soldiers,  slink  away  ; 
Our  vow  is  consummate. 

Car.     [Throws  herself  on  the  body}       O  my  dear  Lord  !        115 

Tar.     Be  gone! 

Os.  Yes,  as  quietly 

As  if  we  were  in  flight  before  the  foe  ; 
The  general  pardon  at  the  coronation 
Will  bring  us  off,  I'm  sure. 

Tar.  Alas,  good  madam  ! 

I'm  sorry  that  these  miseries  have  fall'n  120 

With  so  much  rigour  on  you  ;  pray  take  comfort  : 
Your  husband  prosecuted  with  too  much  violence 
Prince  Abilqualit's  ruin. 

Car.  It  appear'd  so  ! 

What  worlds  of  woe  have  hapless  I  given  life  to, 
And  yet  survive  them  ! 


526  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [Acr  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.  [Exit  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  martyrdom.  Exit 

ACTUS  QUINTUS  SCENA    I 

[The  Camp,  outside  the  city] 

Enter  Abilqualit,  Selinthus,  Gaselles,  Osman,  Soldiers,  and  Mutes 

Abil.     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'  city  with  me. 

Os.  We  will  march 


Sc.  i]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  527 

Through  the  world  with  thee,  dear  Sovereign,  10 

Great  Abilqualit. 

A  b-il.  Selinthus, 

Give  you  our  dear  Tarifa  speedy  notice 
We  are  again  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  Achilles  ;  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  !     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,  i'  th'  Court :  40 

And  though  these  bloodhounds  follow'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  that  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      [Acx  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  Tarifa  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.  Exeunt     55 

SCENA    II 

[A  Room  in  the  Court] 
Enter  Abrahen  and  Simanthes 

Abr.     What  state  and  dignity's  like  that  of  sceptres  ? 
With  what  an  awful  majesty  resembles  it 
The  powers  above  ?     The  inhabitants  of  that 
Superior  world  are  not  more  subject 

To  them  than  these  to  us  ;  they  can  but  tremble  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  sleep 
This  night  with  as  secure  and  calm  a  peace  10 

As  in  my  former  innocence.     Conscience, 
Thou'rt  but  a  terror,  first  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. 

Enter  Mesithes 

Ha,  Mesithes  ! 

Mes.     My  royal  lord  ! 

A  br.  Call  me  thy  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  dangerous 

As  the  affrights  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  afflict  thy  Abrahen.     Love,  Mesithes, 
Is  a  most  stubborn  malady,  not  cur'd  30 

With  that  felicity  that  are  other  passions. 
And  creeps  upon  us  by  those  ambushes 
That  we  perceive  ourselves  sooner  in  love 
Than  we  can  think  upon  the  way  of  loving. 
The  old  flames  break  more  brightly  from  th'  ashes  35 

Where  they  have  long  lain  hid,  like  the  young  phoenix 
That  from  her  spicy  pile  revives  more  glorious. 
Nor  can  I  now  extinguish't ;  it  has  pass'd 
The  limits  of  my  reason,  and  intendfs] 

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  slaughter'd  Mura,  fair  Caropia,  does  45 

Humbly  entreat  access  to  your  dread  presence  ; 
Shall  we  permit  her  entrance  ? 

Abr.  With  all  freedom 

And  best  regard !    Mesithes,  this  arrives 
Beyond  our  wish.     I'll  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  survey'd  by  common  eye. 

Enter    Caropia.  55 

Caropia,  welcome  ; 

And  would  we  could  as  easily  give  thee  comfort 
As  we  allow  thee  more  than  mod 'rate  pity. 
In  tears  those  eyes  cast  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  [Acx  V 

Car.  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. 

Abr.     'Twas  his  own  destiny,  not  our  bad  intentions 
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.  [aside]      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  ? 

Abr.  They  were  mortal; 

And  to  lament  them,  were  to  show  I  envied 
Th'  immortal  joys  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  circle'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  determin'd  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  hi  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  grief-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  adorn' d  by  sadness, 
My  heart,  though  marble,  actuated  to  softness, 
Would  burn  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  [Acx  V 

And  left  me  soiled  like  a  long-pluck'd  rose, 

Whose  leaves  dissever'd  have  foregone  their  sweetness. 

Abr.     Thou  hast  not,  my  Caropia  ;  thou  to  me  140 

Art  for  thy  scent  still  fragrant,  and  as  precious 
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  contentious 
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  brother's  ? 
As  I  succeeded  him  in  all  his  glories, 
'Tis  fit  I  do  succeed  him  in  his  love. 

'Tis  true,  I  know  thy  fame  fell  by  his  practice,  150 

Which  had  he  liv'd,  he'd  have  restored  by  marriage, 
By  it  repair'd  thy  injur'd  honour's  ruins. 
I'm  bound  to  do  it  in  religious  conscience  ; 
It  is  a  debt  his  incens'd  ghost  would  quarrel 
Me  living  for,  should  I  not  pay't  with  fulness.  155 

Car.     Of  what  frail  temper  is  a  woman's  weakness  ! 
Words  writ  in  waters  have  more  lasting  essence 
Than  our  determinations. 

Abr.  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  truth 

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 

Compar'd,  were  pains,  not  easy,  but  delicious  ; 
Yet  still  the  secret  flames  of  my  affections, 
Like  hidden  virtues  in  some  bashful  man, 
Grew  great  and  ferventer  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  acceptance,  like  obedient  vassals. 

Car.  [aside]      I  have  consider'd,  and  my  serious  thoughts 


Sc.  2]  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  533 

Tell  me,  'tis  folly  to  refuse  these  proffers,  180 

To  put  off  my  mortality,  the  pleasures 

Of  life,  which  like  full  streams,  do  flow  from  greatness, 

To  wander  i'  th'  unpeopled  air,  to  keep 

Society  with  ghastly  apparitions, 

Where's  neither  voice  of  friends,  nor  visiting  suitors'  185 

Breaths  to  delight  our  ears  ;  and  all  this  for 

The  fame  of  a  fell  murderess.     I  have  blood 

Enough  already  on  my  soul,  more  than 

My  tears  can  e'er  wash  off. — My  royal  lord, 

If  you  can  be  so  merciful  and  gracious,  190 

To  take  a  woman  laden  with  afflictions, 

Big  with  true  sorrow,  and  religious  penitence 

For  her  amiss,  her  life  and  after  actions 

Shall  study  to  deserve  your  love.     But  surely 

This  is  not  serious. 

A  br.  Not  the  vows  which  vot'ries  195 

Make  to  the  powers  above,  can  be  more  fraught 
With  binding  sanctity.     This  holy  kiss 
Confirms  our  mutual  vows  ;  never  till  now 
Was  I  true  Caliph  of  Arabia. 

[Cries  within]     Enter,  Enter,  Enter 

Ha,  what  tumult's  that  ? 
[Enter  Abilqualit,  Tarifa,  Selinthus,  and  Soldiers] 

Be  you  all  furies,  and  thou  the  great'st  of  devils,  200 

Abrahen  will  stand  you  all,  unmov'd  as  mountains. 

This  good  sword, 

If  you  be  air,  shall  disenchant  you  from 

Your  borrow'd  figures. 

Abil.  No,  ill-natur'd  monster, 

We're  all  corporeal,  and  survive  to  take  205 

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  inhuman  villanies  ?     Dear  Caropia, 
Quit  the  infectious  viper,  lest  his  touch  210 

Poison  thee  past  recovery. 

Abr.  No,  she  shall  not ;  [Seizing  Caropia] 

Nor  you,  until  this  body  be  one  wound, 
Lay  a  rude  hand  upon  me  !     Abilqualit, 


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. 

A  bil.  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,  pull 
The  lady  from  him,  and  disarm  him ! 

A  bil.  Stay !  240 

Though  he  doth  merit  multitudes  of  death, 
We  would  not  murder  his  eternity 
By  sudden  execution  ;  yield  yoursejf , 
And  we'll  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  breath. 


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  your  Empire,  255 

And  as  a  legacy  of  Abrahen's  love, 

Take  this  fair  lady  to  your  bride  !  Stabs  her 

Abil.  Inhuman  butcher  ! 

Has  slain  the  lady.     Look  up,  best  Caropia. 
Run  for  our  surgeons  !  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 !         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  ? 

Sel.  Drunk,  perhaps  ! 

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  strength  enough,  I  hope,  left  yet  280 

To  effect  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  285 

With  an  intent  to  have  for  your  sake  slain  your  brother 
Abrahen  ; 


536  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR  [ACT  V 

Had  not  his  courtesy  and  winning  carriage 

Alter'd  my  resolution,  with  this  poniard 

I'd  struck  him  here  about  the  heart.  Stabs  Abilqualit 

Abil.  O  I  am  slain,  Caropia, 

And  by  thy  hand.     Heavens,  you  are  just ;  this  is  290 

Revenge  for  thy  dear  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  Empress :  which  since  Fate 
Would  not  allow,  I  was  resolv'd  no  woman  295 

After  myself  should  e'er  enjoy  that  glory 
[With]  you,  dear  Abilqualit ;  which  since  my 
Weak  strength  has  serv'd  me  to  perform,  I  die 
Willingly  as  an  infant.     Oh  now  I  faint ! 
Life's  death  to  those  that  keep  it  by  constraint.  Dies    300 

Tar.     My  dear  lord, 
Is  there  no  hopes  of  life  ?  Must  we  be  wretched  ? 

Abil.     Happier,  my  Tarifa,  by  my  death  : 
But  yesterday  I  play'd  the  part  in  jest 

Which  I  now  act  in  earnest.     My  Tarifa,  305 

The  Empire's  thine,  I'm  sure  thou'lt  rule't  with  justice, 
And  make  the  subject  happy.     Thou  hast  a  son 
Of  hopeful  growing  virtues  to  succeed  thee  ; 
Commend  me  to  him,  and  from  me  entreat  him 
To  shun  the  temptings  of  lascivious  glances.  310 

Sel.     'Las,  good  Prince  ! 
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  with  slain  Mura's ; 
But  let  not  Abrahen's  corpse  have  so  much  honour  315 

To  come  i'  th'  royal  monument  ;  lay  mine 
By  my  dear  father's  :  for  that  treacherous  eunuch, 
And  Lord  Simanthes,  use  them  as  thy  justice 
Tells  thee  they  have  merited  ;  for  Lord  Selinthus, 
Advance  him,  my  Tarifa,  he's  of  faithful  320 

And  well-deserving  virtues. 

Sel.  So  I  am, 

I  thought  'twould  come  to  me  anon.     Poor  Prince, 
I  e'en  could  die  with  him. 

Abil.     And  for  those  soldiers,  and  those  our  most  faithful 
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 !  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  burn'd,  Gaselles.     Gentlemen, 
Fate  has  made  us  your  king  against  our  wishes. 

Sel.     Long  live  Tarifa,  Caliph  of  Arabia  ! 

Tar.     We  have  no  time  now  for  your  acclamations  ;  335 

These  are  black  Sorrow's  festivals.     Bear  off 
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 

y    They're  only  truly  great  wh'  are  truly  good. 

Recorders.     Flourish.     Exeunt  omnes 


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  live  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'Ambois,  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'A  mbois  :  A  Tragedie.  :  As  it  hath  been  often  presented 
at  Paules,  London.  Printed  for  William  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  following  title- 
page  :  Bussy  D'A  mbois  :  A  Tragedie  :  As  it  hath  been  often  Acted  with 
great  Applause.  Being  much  corrected  and  emended  by  the  Author  before 
his  death.  London.  Printed  by  A.  N.  for  Robert  Lunne,  1641 ,  presents, 
however,  a  thorough  revision  of  the  play. 

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, 
1908.  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  carried  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  title-page  of  the  first 
edition  tells  us, '  often  presented  '.  It  was  revised,  probably  for  a  new 
production  at  Whitefriars  by  Nat.  Field,  about  1610,  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-role.  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,  1661  ; 
but  her  report  does  not  seem  to  have  inspired  the  diarist  with 
curiosity  enough  to  attend  a  performance,  although  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  l  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 '.  a 

1  See  the  Dedication  of  The  Spanish  Friar,  1681. 

1  See  D'Urfey,  Dedication  of  Bussy  D'Ambois  or  The  Husband's  Revengt 

541 


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  Royal  in  1691.  Scandalous 
as  was  D'Urfey's  distortion  of  the  old  play,  it  was  apparently  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  ill-fated  Mountfort  played  Bussy ;  Kynaston,  the  last  of  the  old 
boy-actors,  took  the  part  of  Guise  ;  Powell  played  Montsurry  ;  Colley 
Gibber,  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 
Bussy's  death  occurred  in  1579.  De  Thou's  account  of  this  incident 
appears  for  the  first  time,  according  to  Boas,  2  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  common 
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  III 
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  1'Estoile,  De  Thou, 
D'Aubigne,  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  Bnspy's  l^fe^f minded  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  born  in  1549.  Likejnost 
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.  Bartholomew  he  murdered  his  cousin,  Antoine  de  Clermont, 
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 

1  Quellen  und  Forschungen :    Quellen-studien  zu  den   Dramen  Chapmans, 
1897. 

2  Bussy  D'Ambois,  edited  by  F.  S.  Boas,  1905,  p.  xvii. 

3  Louis  de  Clermont,  Sieur  de  Bussy  d'Amboise,  Andr6  Joubert,  Angers  et 
Paris,  1885. 


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. 

Francoise  de  Maridort,  widow  of  the  Baron  de  Luce,  married  as  her 
second  husband  Charles  de  Chambes,  Comte  de  Monsoreau,  Chapman's 
Montsurry.  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  pursued  his  passion  for  the  Countess  with  all  the 
ardour  of  a  Frenchman  of  the  Renaissance,  but,  if  the  account  of 
Rosset i  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  the  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  forced  her  to  invite  Bussy  to  the 
chateau  on  the  night  of  August  15,  1579.  When  Bussy  came,  unarmed 
and  with  but  one  companion,  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 
ing  to  Rosset'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  mourned,  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  unlikely  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,  therefore,  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. 

1  Les  Histoires  Tragiques  de  Nostre  Temps :  De  la  mort  pitoyable  du  valeut  • 
eux  Lysis,  1615. 


544 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


In  the  matter  of  construction  Bussy  D'Ambois  is  Chapman's  master 
piece  in  tragedy.  Mr.  Boas  rightly  calls  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  soldier  to  his  rise 
to  the  position  of  the  King's  prime  favourite,  and  again  to  his  fall 
and  death  at  the  hands  of  Monsieur,  Guise,  and  Montsurry.  There 
is  in  the  arrangement  and  combination  of  these  incidents  a  complete 
departure  from  the  old-fashioned  epic  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  influence  of 
Seneca  is  shown  not  alone  in  the  condensation  and  interlinking  of 
the  incidents,  but  in  various  devices,  familiar  to  all  students  of  Eliza 
bethan  drama  as  signs  of  Senecan  dominance,  in  the  sententious  pro 
logue,  in  the  substitution  of  the  stately  rhetoric  of  the  Nuntius  for 
the  actual  representation  of  such  an  incident  as  the  duel,  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 
with  such  an  actor  as  Field,  had  taught  him  something  of  the  popular 
requirements  in  a  tragedy.  In  Bussy  he  submits  more  readily  than 
elsewhere  to  the  popular  demand,  and  by  this  very  submission  imparts 
to  this  play  a  realism  and  sense  of  vigorous  life,  which  is  noticeably 
absent  in  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  the 
vain  and  greedy  steward,  Maff6,  and  between  Maffe  and  his  terrified 
master,  the  invocation  of  the  Devil,  couched  in  the  manner  of  Mar- 
lowe,  and,  above  all,  the  scenes  of  torture,  of  combat,  and  of  murder 
in  the  last  act,  bear  convincing  witness  to  the  fact  that  Chapman, 
in  this  play  at  least,  was  no  closet  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  kindles 
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  compound  of  sensualism,  superstition,  cowardice, 
and  ferocity  which  characterized  the  last  of  the  Valois,  but  there  is 
apparently  no  effort  to  present  any  personality  whatsoever.  Henry- 
is  simply  the  King  qua  King,  a  mouthpiece  for  grave  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 
in  these  minor  figures,  such  as  the  blending  in  Monsieur  of  fear  and 
hatred  of  Bussy,  or  the  revulsion  of  outraged  love  to  savage  cruelty 


INTRODUCTION  545 

in  Montsurry,  which  show  plainly  enough  that  Chapman  did  not  wholly 
lack  the  Elizabethan  gift  of  character  divination  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  portrayal  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  he  has  wholly  succeeded 
in  his  task.  A  close  study  of  the  play  will  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 
that  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  effective  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  Marlowe :  one  of  the  Titan 
brood  of  Elizabethan  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  Tamburlaine^  c  \  S^~ 


or  Dr.  Faustus.     The  passion  that  dominates  him  is  a  desire  for  self-i 


f- 

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  J  ,  , '  ^   J 
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  K 


-.        « 
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 
modern  sense  of  the  word,  but  he  is  the  very  incarnation  of  virtus,  as 
the  Romans  understood  it,  '  the  sum  of  all  the  bodily  and  mental 
excellences  of  man '.  His  bitterest  enemy  pronounces  him  '  young, 
learned,  valiant,  virtuous,  and  full-mann'd '.  It  is  his  firm  reliance 
upon  virtue  so  understood,  that  gives  Bussy  his  unquenchable  self- 
confidence.  He  knows  that 

Who  to  himself  is  law,  no  law  doth  need, 
Offends  no  law,  and  is  a  king  indeed. 

It  is  not  by  chance,  nor  as  a  mere  literary  ornament,  that  Chapman, 
as  Mr.  Boas  x  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  fatal  consequences,  for  the 
amour  is  plainly  enough  only  an  incident  in  Bussy '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 : 

0  frail  condition  of  strength,  valour,  virtue, 
In  me  (like  warning  fire  upon  the  top 
Of  some  steep  beacon  on  a  steeper  hill) 
Made  to  express  it :  like  a  falling  star 
Silently  glanc'd,  that  like  a  thunderbolt 
Look'd  to  have  stuck  and  shook  the  firmament. 

1  Boas,  pp.  xviii-xix. 


BUSSY    D'AMBOIS 

NOTES 

Prologue.  The  Prologue  does  not  appear  in  the  Qq.  of  1607  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.i 

The  occasion  of  this  revival  seems  to  have  been  the  performance  of  Bussy 
by  another  company  than  the  King's  Men.  The  latter,  unwilling  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.  16-9),  has  not  been  identified  ; 
but  the  '  third  man  '  (1.  21),  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 
(Pleasant  Notes  on  Don  Quixote,  p.  25).  Swanston's  '  Richard  '  (1.  23),  may 
have  been  the  part  of  Ricardo  in  Massinger's  The  Picture  (which  he  is  known 
to  have  played  in  1629,  licensed  by  Herbert,  June  8,  1629  ;  see  Malone-Boswell, 
Shakespeare,  vol.  iii,  p.  230),  or  possibly  that  of  Shakespeare's  Richard  III. 

Bussy  D'Ambois  was  performed  at  Court,  in  the  cockpit  at  Whitehall,  by 
the  King's  Men  on  Easter  Monday  night,  i.e.,  April  7,  1634  (Herbert's  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  PERSONS 

Monsieur,  the  familiar  title  of  the  next  younger  brother  of  the  King  of 
France.  This  was  Francois,  Duke  of  Alencon,  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  Guise,  Henri  le  Balafre,  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. 

Montsnrry.  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. 

Comolet.  Chapman  may  have  taken  this  name,  which  he  uses  throughout 
in  the  first  edition  of  the  play(Qq.  1607,  1608)  instead  of  '  Friar  ',  from  the 
historical  Father  Commolet,  an  accomplice  before  the  fact  in  the  murder  of 
Henry  Illfcof  France.1 

Tamyra.  Chapman's  name  for  Franjoise  de  Maridort,  wife  of  the  Co  mte 
de  Monsoreau. 

1  The  allusion  to  Field  in  1.  15  shows  that  it  was  composed  after  his  departure  from  the 
King's  Men  some  time  before  1625. 

2  See  Grimeston,  General  Inventory,  edition  of  1611,  p.  879. 


548  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

I,  i,  Enter  Bussy  .  .  .  poor.  This  description  may  have  been  suggested  to 
Chapman  by  a  well-known  anecdote  of  Bussy's  appearance  at  Court  in  a 
simple  dress,  followed  by  six  pages  in  cloth  of  gold.  See  Pierre  de  L'Estoile, 
Memoir es-Journaux,  edition  1875-96,  vol.  i,  p.  229.  If  so,  Chapman  can  only 
have  had  a  confused  remembrance  of  it ;  his  presentation  of  Bussy  as  a  poor 
gentleman  brought  to  Court  by  the  favour  of  Monsieur  is  quite  unhistorical. 

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  that  goes  upon  her  head. 

i,  7.     Unskilful  statuaries.     Cf.  Byron's  Conspiracy,  iv,  i,  179  ssq. 
i,  18.     A  torch  ...  a  shadow.     The  first   of  these   phrases   has  a  parallel 
in  Chapman's  Hymn  to  Christ  upon  the  Cross,  1612  :    before  the  wind  a 
fume  (Poems,  p.  147);    the  second  is  the  famous  phrase  of  Pindar,  <r*cias 
Si/ap   at/flpwTi-os.     Pythia  viii,  96-7. 

I,  i,  23.  To  put  a  girdle  round  about  the  world.  Cf.  Midsummer  Night's  Dream, 
II,  i,  175-6: 

ril  put  a  girdle  round  about  the  earth 
In  forty  minutes. 

This  well-known  phrase  was  probably  suggested  to  Shakespeare  by  a 
device  in  Whitney's  A  Choice  of  Emblems  (Leyden,  1586,  p.  203),  celebrating 
Drake'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,  83.  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  Tears 
of  Peace  (Poems,  p.  123),  and  in  A  Justification  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda. 

I,  i,  40.  '  Impressions  to  serve  as  a  precedent  for  the  actions  of  inferior  persons  '. 

I,  i,  60.     To  bear  state  :  to  bear  himself  proudly. 

I,  i,  57-81.  This  speech  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  authors, 
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  Themistocles,  Camillus,  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 
burnish'd  steel,  11.  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 
which  he  translated  favourite  bits  and  on  which  he  drew  at  will  when 
composing  his  plays  and  poems. 

I,  i,  86-7.  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  : 

See  in  how  grave  a  brake  he  sets  his  vizard. 

I,  i,  89-90.  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,  102-3.     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,  113-4.     I  have  not  been  able  to  trace  any  reference  to  such  a  representa- 

tion  of  Fortune. 

I,  i,  124.  Unsweating  thrift :  cold-blooded  economy,  or  calculation. 
I,  i,  139.  When  it  cries  clink  :  when  the  hour  strikes  ;  cf.  11,  134-5. 
I,  i,  178.  There  is  a  play  on  the  word  commanded.  Maff6  uses  it  in  the 

sense  of  '  to  hold  command  ',  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.    205-9,  prints  a 

poem  of  Bussy's. 
I,  i,  193.     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  III,  p.  250,  edition  Petitot)  cites  a  quatrain  composed  at  the 

time  of  Monsieur's  attempt  on  Antwerp,  1583: 

Flamands  ne  soyez  etonnez 
Si  a  Francois  voyez  deux  nix : 
Car  par  droit,  raison,  et  usage, 
Faut  deux  nez  d  double  visage. 

To  this  quatrain  Petitot  adds  a  note  :  '  La  petite  v6role  avoit  extrSment 
maltrait6  le  visage  de  ce  prince,  qui  paroissait  avoir  deux  nez.'  Elsewhere 
L'Estoile  remarks  that  Monsieur  was  afflicted  with  a  double  nose,  '  the 
sign  of  a  traitor',  in  this  case  a  most  appropriate  sign. 

I,  i,  194-5.  Your  chain  and  velvet  jacket :  the  symbols  of  his  office  as  steward ; 
cf.  Sir  Toby's  advice  to  Malvolio:  Go  rub  your  chain  with  crumbs,  Twelfth 
Night,  II,  iii,  128-9.  The  velvet  jacket  seems  also  to  have  been  part  of 
the  costume  of  the  steward,  or  gentleman  usher  ;  cf.  A  Mad  World,  My 
Masters,  III,  iii,  60-62  (Middleton,  Bullen's  edition). 

I,  i,  207.  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  trade. 

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,  U,  2.  That  English  virgin :  '  apparently  Annable,  who  is  the  Duchess  of 
Guise's  lady  in  waiting  (cf.  Ill,  ii,  234-40) '. — Boas. 

I,  ii,  44.  Chapman  plays  in  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  drama  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  was  printed  in  1607  the  only  leap  year 
that  suits  the  dates  is  1604.  See  further  the  article  already  cited  in  Modern 
Language  Review,  January,  1908. 

I,  ii,  97.  Turn  the  ladder :  probably  '  turn  off  the  ladder ',  *  be  hanged  to 
you.' 

I,  U,  101.  Groom-porters.  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 

I,  ii,  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  of  '  gizzard  '  '  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  himself.  Bussy  addresses  him  in  the  same  way  in  III,  ii,  80. 

I,  ii,  118-9.  Accius  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,  124.  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 
knights  so  lavishly  created  by  James  I  in  the  early  years  of  his  reign. 
A  notable  instance  of  this  occurs  in  Eastward  Ho,  IV,  i,  213-4,  where  the 
rascally  Sir  Petronel  Flash  is  spoken  of  as  one  of  the  King's  '  thirty- 
pound  knights '. 

I,  ii*  135.  The  knight's  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,  ii,  146.  Out  o'  th'  presence :  beyond  the  limits  of  the  Court,  within  which 
specially  severe  penalties  were  inflicted  for  brawling.  Readers  of  Scott 
will  remember  the  punishment  that  threatened  Nigel  Olifaunt  for  striking 
Lord  Dalgarno  within  the  limits  of  St.  James's  Park. 

I»  ii,  151.  In  Elizabethan  and  Jacobean  times  the  floors  even  of  palaces 
were  strewn  with  rushes.  There  are  countless  allusions  to  this  practice 
in  Elizabethan  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,  35-6. 

Compare  also  the  comic  scene  in  The  Gentleman  Usher,  II,  i,  where  Bassiolo 
teaches  Vincentio  how  to  strew  the  floor. 

I,  ii,  160-1.  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,  173.  New  denizened :  newly  naturalized.  The  allusion  is,  of  course, 
to  the  Scotch  lords  and  gentlemen  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  thejfirst  years  of  J  ames's  reign,  and  was  stubbornly  opposed  by  the  popular 
party  in  Parliament. 

I*  ii,  180-2.  A  reference  to  Aesop's  fable  of  the  ass  in  the  lion's  skin ;  no. 
333,  Teubner  edition. 

I,  ii,  187.     Carry  it  off  :  get  the  better  of  the  quarrel. 

I,  ii,  209-10.  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.,  '  the  ground  ' ;  but  it  also 
means  a  comment,  or  observation  on  some  topic.  Cf.  Richard  III,  III, 
vii,  49  :  On  that  ground  I'll  make  a  holy  descant.  Ground,  of  course, 
means  '  basis  '  or  '  subject '  as  well  as  '  a  musical  theme '. 

I,  ii,  228.  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. 

I,  ii,  229.     This  priviledge :  the  Court  limits.     See  note  on  I,  ii,  146  above. 

II,  i,  5-10.     With  this  comparison  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. 

H,  i,  12-3.  Bruits  it.  .  .  .  Being  sound  and  healthful.  Boas  paraphrases 
this  passage ;  '  proclaims  it  through  the  world  to  be  sound  and  wholesome ' . 
But  I  think  it  is  better  to  take  the  participial  clause  as  modifying  she, 


NOTES  551 

i.e.,  Envy,  in  1.  n,  who  feasts  soundly  and  healthfully  on  the  evil  that  she 
finds  in  men,  but  sickens  (surfeits,  1.  15)  at  the  taste  of  good. 

n,  i,  15-7.  There  is  an  almost  verbal  parallel  to  these  lines  in  Chapman's 
Invective  against  Jonson(  Poems,  p.  433). 

n,  i,  35  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 
Ill's  minions,  Quelus,  Maugiron,  and  Livarot,  with  three  partisans  of 
the  Duke  of  Guise,  D'Entr agues,  Rib&rac,  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  many 
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.  312,  edition  of  Societ6  de  L'Histoire  de  France) 
and  Pierre  de  L'Estoile  (Journal  de  Henri  III,  p.  167,  edition  Petitot). 

II,  i,  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!. 

II,  i,  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  highly  please, 
Who  rush'd  between  the  fighting  hosts  and  made  the  Trojans  cease 
By  holding  up  in  midst  his  lance. 

Chapman's  Iliad. 

n,  i,  80.  Ripp'd  up  the  quarrel :  discussed  the  cause  of  the  quarrel.  Or» 
continuing  the  simile  of  Hector  in  11.  54-8,  it  may  mean,  separated  the 
combatants. 

n,  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  11. 
344-9.  Milton  and  Chapman,  of  course,  go  back  to  a  common  origin, 
the  mediaeval  conception  of  spiritual  bodies. 

n,  i,  84-90.    The  confusion  of  personal  pronouns  makes  this  passage  some 
what  difficult ;  he  in  1.  84  is  Bussy  ;  him  and  himself  in  1.  85  refer  to  Barri- 
t  sor;  he  in  11.  86  and  87  refers  again  to  Bussy  ;  his,  1.  90,  to  Barrisor. 
H,  i,  92.     Redoubled  in  his  danger:  'thrusting  himself  a  second  time  into 

danger '. — Boas.     Cf.  the  use  of  redoubled  in  1.  190  below. 
II,  i,  94.     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,  i,  94-101.  With  the  simile  in  these  lines  compare  the  well  known  passage 
in  the  sEneid,  ii,  626-63 : 

Ac  veluti  summis  antiquam  in  montibus  ornum 
Cum  ferro  accisam  crebrisque  bipennibus  instant 
Eruere  agricolae  certatim,  ilia  usque  minatur 
Et  tremefacta  comam  concusso  vertice  nutat, 
Volneribus  donee  paulatim  evicta  supremum 
Congemuit  traxitque  jugis  avolsa  ruinam. 


552  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

4  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  quivering  npds  the  foliage  on  its  tossing  top,  until  by  degrees 
quite  vanquished  by  blows,  it  heaves  aloud  its  last  groan,  and  torn  away 
from  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. 

II,  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. 

II,  i,  108.  Thy  felt  report  calls  on  :  thy  report  heard  with  interest  provokes 
a  desire  to  hear  the  conclusion  of  the  fray. 

II,  i,  119-23.  The  unicorn's  horn,  the  treasure  of  his  brow,  was  long  sup 
posed  to  be  a  most  valuable  remedy.  Aelian  (De  Nat.  Animal.,  Ill,  41) 
says  that  bowls  of  this  substance  nullified  the  force  of  any  poison  that 
might  be  cast  therein.  David  de  Pomis  (Pomerarius),  the  Jewish  phy 
sician,  declares  that  it  is  good  against  deadly  poisons  and  pestilent  fevers, 
and  gives  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  unicorn'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  method  was  not 
without  danger  is  shown  by  the  anecdote  in  the  text.  A  safer  method 
in  which  a  virgin  was  employed  is  related  by  Samuel  Bochart  in  a  delight 
ful  chapter  on  the  Unicorn  in  Hierozoicon  (book  III,  chap.  26,  Quid  veteres 
et  recentiores  scripserint  de  animalibus  unicornibus).  The  well-known 
reference  in  Julius  Caesar,  II,  i,  203-4,  alludes  to  the  first  method.  See 
also  The  Faerie  Queene,  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  medicinal  qualities 
of  the  unicorn's  horn — 

The  fell  monocerote 
Bears  in  his  brow  a  soveraine  antidote. 

II,  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. 

n,  i,  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  will  let  the  virtue  of  this  tie  prevail  over  his  Jnatural  scruples 
and  grant  Bussy,  for  Monsieur's  sake,  that  which  he  could  not  grant 
were  he  not  a  king,  i.e.,  a  free  pardon. 

n,  i,  190.     On  my  knees  redoubed :   kneeling  a  second  time. 

n,  i,  208-4.  Chapman  is  never  weary  of  repeating  that  a  virtuous  man  is 
above  the  law.  A  striking  expression  of  this  idea  occurs  in  The  Gentleman 
Usher,  V,  iv,  56-60: 

And  what's  a  prince  ?    Had  all  been  virtuous  men, 
There  never  had  been  prince  upon  the  earth, 
And  so  no  subject ;  all  men  had  been  princes ; 


NOTES  553 

A  virtuous  man  ^s  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. 

n,  i,  218.     In  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. 
II,  ii,  45.     As  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.  InAllFools,  II,  i,  282-5,  Chapman  speaks  of 

A  well-taught  waiting  woman 
Turning  her  eyes  upon  some  work  or  picture, 
Read  in  a  book,  or  take  a  feigned  nap, 
While  her  kind  lady  takes  one  to  her  lap. 

A  similar  allusion,  with  reference  to  Petrarch  as  a  useful  book  on  such 
occasions,  appears  in  Monsieur  D' Olive,  V,  i,  190-200. 

II,  ii,  103-4.    The  book  which  Pero  had  been  reading  was  probably  a  book 
of  devotions.     Tamyra  takes  it  from  her  with  the  remark  that  she  (Tamyra) 
would  use  it  to  better  purpose  than  the  maid. 
II,  ii,  115.     The  centre :   '  the  unmoved  central  point  of  the  earth  according 

to  the  Ptolemaic  system '. — Boas. 

n,  ii,  132.  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  (11. 192-7), 
seems  to  indicate  a  temporary  intention  on  her  part  of  renouncing  the 
rendezvous  with  her  lover. 

n,  ii,  148.  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. 

m,  i,  21.  In  his  truest  valour :  '  if  his  valour  be  rightly  estimated  '. — Boas. 
Perhaps  we  might  interpret  the  phrase,  '  at  his  best ',  '  at  his  highest  point 
of  valour '.  Valour  in  this  line  and  value,  1.  40,  seem  to  be  used 
almost  interchangeably. 

HI,  i,  23-5.  These  lines  recall  the  well-known  scene  where  Hamlet  points 
out  to  Polonius  a  cloud  that's  almost  in  shape  of  a  camel,  yet  is  backed 
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  that's  dragpnish  ; 
A  vapour  sometimes  like  a  bear  or  lion. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra,  IV,  xiv,  2-3. 

There  is  another  parallel  in  Monsieur  D'Olive,  II,  ii,  92-4. 
HI,  i,  26.    When  they  hold  no  proportion :  when  there  is  not  the  least  resemblance. 
HI,  i,  27-30.    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. 
HI,  i,  33.     Our  three  powers  :   '  the  vegetative,  sensitive,  and  reasoning  facul 
ties  '. — Boas. 


554  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

III,  i,  69-71.    Mr.  Boas  gives  the  following  interpretation  of  this  passage, 

derived  from  Dr.  J.  A.  H.  Murray  :  That  (Nature)  brings  our  powers  into 

accordance  with  its  own  will,  or  working,  just  as  the  stone  (laid  by  the 

builder)  should  be  apposed,  or  brought  into  accord  with  the  line,  not  the 

line  (which  is  straight  and  not  to  be  shifted)  made  to  lie  along  the  stone '. 
Ill,  i,  81.     '  Must  defer  his  shining  until  such  time  as  the  vapours  he  has 

raised  up  from  the  earth  have  passed  away.' 
Ill,  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. 
Ill,  ii,  3-4.     Kites  that  check  at  sparrows :  worthless  or  badly-trained  falcons 

that  forsake  their  proper  game  to  follow  sparrows.     Cf.  Twelfth  Night, 

III,  i,  71-2. 
Ill,  ii,  4-5.     An  allusion  to  Jove's  eagle.     Cf.  Chapman's  note  on  Eugenia 

(Poems,  p.  336). 
Ill,  ii,  13.     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.  .  .  .     Brainworm :  Why,  a  fine  wisp 

of  hay  rolled  hard,  Master  Stephen. 
There  is  a  modern  allusion  to  this  custom  of  protecting  the  legs  with 

wisps  of  hay  in  Hardy's  Woodlanders,  chapter  xx. 
Ill,  ii,  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  deceitfulness. 

A  passage  in  Middleton's  The  Witch,  V,  ii,  55,  shows  that  the  fat  of  a 

dead  red-haired  person  was  considered  a  poison,  or  at  least  an  ingredient 

of  a  poison. 

Ill,  ii,  28.     '  That  affects  the  manner  of  a  king  although  born  a  beggar.' 
Ill,  ii,  29.     By  his  suffering  king :    by  his  king's  sufferance,  or  permission. 
in,  ii,  85.     His  own  counsel  keeping :    keeping  his  own  private  lawyer,  like 

Sir  Giles  Overreach  in  A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,  to  assist  him  in  his 

extortions  and  trespasses  on  the  rights  of  others. 
Ill,  ii,  44.    His  superfluous  cures  :  his  too  numerous  spiritual  charges.     Bussy 

is  thinking  of  a  pluralist  clergyman. 
in,  ii,  46.     Hebrew  is  read  backwards.     For  a  curious  parallel  to  these  lines, 

see  Teufelsdrockh's  epitaph  on  Count  Zahdarm,  Sartor  Resartus,  II,  4 : 

'  quinquies  mille  perdices  plumbo  confecit :  varii  cibi  centum  pondia  millies 

.  .  .  in  stercus  palam  convertit '. 
Ill,  ii,  69.     That  popular  purple  :   an  allusion  to  Guise's  popularity  with  the 

Parisians,  who  showed  him  more  honour  than  they  did  the  King. 
Ill,  ii,  79.     Georges  D'Amboise,  Cardinal  and  Archbishop  of  Rouen,  died  in 

1510,  thirty  nine  years  before  Bussy  was  born.     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. 

Ill,  ii,  86-7.     Be  a  duke,  and  lead  me :  a  pun  on  the  original  meaning  of  Dux. 
in,  ii,  105.     The  world  of  Saturn:    the  Saturnian  or   Golden  Age,  when 

men  were  equal,  and  fraud  and  violence  were  unknown. 
Ill,  ii,  108-10.     The  Hermean  rod :   the  caduceus.     Hyginus  (Poeticon  Astro- 

nomicon,  II,  vii)  tells  the  legend  of  Mercury's  having  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  symbol  of  their  office. 
Ill,  ii,  138.    Has  she  met  you  ? :     Is  she  even  with  you  ? 
Ill,  ii,  145-7.     This  giant.    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. 

Jove  overcame  him  by  means  of  the  thunderbolt  and  buried  him  under 

Mount  Aetna  (see  Hyginus,  Fabulae,  clii). 
in,  ii,  146.     Jove's  ordinance :    the  thunderbolt,  elsewhere  styled  '  Jove's 

artillery ',  see  IV,  ii,  37. 
HI,  ii,  155-6.     Cf.  '  Who  that  worst  may  shall  hold  the  candle',  Heywood's 

Proverbs,  edited  by  Sharman,  1874,  p.  97.      Camden  (Remains,  p.  324) 


NOTES  555 

gives  this  as  :  'He  that  worst  may  must  hold  the  candle.'  Candle- 
bearers  looked  on  at  gaming,  dancing,  etc.  (cf.  Romeo  and  Juliet,  I,  iv, 
38),  hence  the  proverb,  '  A  good  candle-holder  proves  a  good  gamester  ' 
(Ray,  edited  by  Bohn,  p.  3),  and  the  modern,  '  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  of  their  inferiority  to  men,  none 
the  less  know  well  how  the  game  is  going. 

ffl,  ii,  176.     Your  chaste  lady :  Tamyra. 

HI,  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. 

in,  ii,  186.     A  n  uncle :   Guise  is  the  uncle  of  Charlotte's  mistress,  Beaupr6. 

Ill,  ii,  219.  This  conveyance :  this  contrivance  to  secure  a  meeting  with 
Bussy. 

Ill,  ii,  236.  Dry  palm :  a  sign  of  a  cold  temperament,  as  a  moist  palm  was 
of  an  amorous  or  liberal  disposition.  Cf.  Chabot,  II,  iii,  172-3,  and  Othello, 
III,  iv,  36-9. 

Ill,  ii,  287.  Liver  :  the  seat,  according  to  Elizabethan  physiology,  of  various 
emotions.  Here,  of  course,  the  reference  is  to  love(. 

HI,  ii,  257.  With  this  riddle  compare  that  of  Cupid  m  Byron's  Tragedy,  II,  i, 
88-95. 

in,  ii,  272.     Comes  most  near  you  :  touches  you,  or  afflicts  you  most. 

ffl,  ii,  299.     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. 

IU,  ii,  814.  Train  D'Ambois  to  his  wreak:  lure  Bussy  within  reach  of  his, 
Montsurry's,  revenge. 

ffl,  ii,  321.  Monsieur's  call,  the  entrance  of  Maffe  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. 
xxxiv,  p.  i  ssq.,  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. 

ffl,  ii,  859.  Angel  of  my  life:  guardian  angel,  or  rather  tutelary  genius. 
Cf.  Caesar  and  Pompey,  II,  iii,  38  and  IV,  iii,  3. 

ffl,  ii,  367.  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  (Poems,  p.  120). 

ffl,  ii,  873.  The  man  of  blood.  Grimeston  (General  Inventory,  p.  818,  edition 
of  1611)  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. 

ffl,  ii,  878.     Titan :  the  Sun  god. 

ffl,  ii,  382.     Sole  discourses  :  solitary  communings. 

ffl,  ii,  397-8.  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. 

ffl,  ii,  411-12.  '  Do  not  think  themselves  wise,  unless  they  hear  their  praises 
sung  by  others,  who,  in  reality,  are  but  making  fools  of  them.' 

ffl,  ii,  432-3.  Ajax  went  mad  with  rage  when  the  arms  of  Achilles  were 
voted  to  Ulysses  rather  than  to  himself,  and  in  his  madness  attacked  and 
slaughtered  a  flock  of  sheep,  taking  it  for  the  Grecian  army. 

ffl,  ii,  437.     To  make  them  of  a  piece :  to  harmonize,  and  so  make  them  useful. 

ffl,  ii,  445.     Hath  reference :  is  carried. 

ffl,  ii,  449.  '  Probably  an  allusion  to  the  adoration  of  Alexander  the  Great 
as  the  son  of  Jupiter  Hammon'. — Boas. 

ffl,  ii,  469.    A   murthering  piece :    cf.  Hamlet,  IV,  v,  95.     Chapman  uses 


556 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


the  expression  '  make  a  lane ',  elsewhere  to  describe  the  effects  of  a  cannon 
shot.  See  Poems,  p.  154,  and  Sir  Giles  Goosecap,  I,  iii,  16-7. 

Ill,  ii,  483.  The  purest  crystal :  used  here  for  the  diamond,  the  conventional 
type  of  hardness. 

HI,  ii,  484.     To  that  wall :   '  at  the  distance  of  that  wall.'— Boas. 

Ill,  ii,  486.     This  line  re-appears  with  slight  change  in  The  Revenge  of  Bussy, 

I,  ii,  32. 

HI,  ii,  487.     Lernean  fen :    the  swamp  near  Argos,  where  dwelt  the  Hydra 

slain  by  Hercules. 
Ill,  ii,  491.     Clotho  :    the  first  of  the  three  Fates.     She  is  said  to  spin  the 

thread  of  man's  life  from  her  breathing  rock,  i.e.,  her  distaff. 
Ill,  ii,  492.     Lachesis  :    the  second  of  the  Fates,  who  draws  out  the  thread 

she  receives  from  Clotho. 

III,  ii,  493-4.     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  Jfingers  in  a  bowl,   crown' d,  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,  28.      Which :   i.e.  times.     Grief   now  proves,  i.e.   claims,  these  times 
as  his  own. 

IV,  i,  52.     In  high  forms  :  '  on  stools  of  disgrace.' — Boas. 

IV,  i,  55.  Monsieur  here  uses  sneeringly  the  epithet  of  eagle  which  the 
King  had  bestowed  on  Bussy.  See  III,  ii,  4. 

IV,  i,  57.  See  note  on  III,  ii,  237.  The  double  reference  to  the  eagle's 
beak,  1.  55,  and  the  liver,  1.  57,  implies  an  allusion  to  the  story  of  Prometheus. 

IV,  i,  60-4.  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  all  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  but  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  pure,  i.e.  sincere,  unaffected,  than  before,  pro 
bably  with  reference  to  the  snub  she  had  given  Bussy  on  their  first  meeting. 

IV,  i,  75.     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  knees  of  courtiers.' 

IV,  i,  91.  A  box-tree :  emblematic  of  lowness.  Cf.  Byron's  Tragedy,  V, 
iii,  13-14,  where  box-trees  are  contrasted  with  the  cedar  of  Lebanon.  Gerard 
in  his  Herball,  1597,  speaks  of  the  root  of  the  box-tree  as  harder  than 
the  timber  and  more  fit  for  dagger  hafts,  etc. 

IV,  i,  98.  Armenian  dragons  :  Chapman  may  be  thinking  here  of  the  gold- 
guarding  griffins  of  Scythia  mentioned  by  Herodotus,  IV,  27. 

IV,  i,  115-6.    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,  126.  Cynthia :  a  title  of  Diana,  who  was  not  only  the  goddess  of  chastity, 
but  also  the  moon  goddess.  It  is  in  this  latter  character Ithat  she  fashions  horns. 

IV,  i,  131.  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  Introduction 
to  Bussy,  p.  543. 

IV,  i,  138.     Herod :  see  Acts  xii,  23. 

IV,  i,  144.  Some  proud  string  :  proud  here  means  '  wanton ',  '  lascivious  ' 
(cf.  The  Gentleman  Usher,  I,  i,  147-8).  String  refers  to  the  discords  of  1. 143. 

IV,  i,  153  -4.     Irish  wars.    This  phrase  does  not  appear  in  the  first  edition . 


NOTES  557 

If  the  allusion  is  specific,  the  only  wars  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  1641,  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,  188.  Being  best  informed :  when  I  am  at  peace  with  myself,  not  reduced 
to  chaos  (1.  163)  by  suspicion. 

IV,  i,  181-3.  '  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  beauty,  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,  falsely 
accused  by  the  wife  of  Acastus,  whose  prof  erred  love  he  had  rejected, 
was  robbed  of  his  weapons  by  the  angry  husband  and  exposed  to  the 
wild  beasts  on  Mount  Peiion.  Chiron,  the  centaur,  who  knew  his  innocence, 
rescued  him. 

IV,  i,  185.  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  ^Esculapius 
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  Villany  (1599),  book  iii, 
Proem,  1.  21 : 

To  purge  this  Augean  oxstall  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,  192.  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,  208-4.  Tamyra  insinuates,  I  think,  that  the  paper  which  Monsieur 
had  offered  her  husband  was  a  forgery  in  Monsieur's  own  hand. 

IV,  i,  211.  Cerberus  :  the  guardian  o?  the  gate  of  Hades  is  here  contrasted 
with  the  sun  as  being  a  representative  of  darkness  and  night. 

IV,  i,  217.     This  touch :    this  blow,  i.e.  Monsieur's  accusation. 

IV,  i,  227.  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,  8.     '  He  (Monsieur)  is  hot  upon  the  scent  of  him  (Mischief).' 

IV,  ii,  24.     '  By  which  all  things  capable  of  terror  are  frightened.' — Boas. 

IV,  ii,  81-2.  The  reference  is  to  Epimetheus,  the  foolish  brother  of  Prome 
theus,  who  opened  Pandora's  box  and  let  loose  its  plagues  upon  mankind. 

IV,  ii,  86.  To  wreak  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.  Chapman 
seems  to  have  been  rather  pleased  with  1.  37.  He  repeats  it  in  Caesar 
and  Pompey,  II,  v,  4.  Cf.  also  Hymnus  in  Noctem  (Poems,  p.  4). 

IV,  ii,  46-7.     '  I  will  obtain  an  answer  from  a  spirit  which  I  shall  invoke.' 

IV,  ii,  52-9.  '  Emperor  of  the  legions  of  the  spirits  of  the  West,  mighty 
Behemoth,  appear,  appear,  attended  by  Ashtaroth,  thy  unvanquished 
lieutenant  !  I  adjure  thee  by  the  inscrutable  secrets  of  the  Styx,  by  the 
irretraceable  windings  of  Hell,  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 


558 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


and  Hecate's  deep  silence,  come  !  Appear  in  spiritual  form,  gleaming, 
resplendent,  lovely.' 

IV,  i,  53.  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  Astaroth 
in  Reginald  Scott's  Discourse  of  Devils,  appended  to  his  Discovery  of 
Witchcraft,  chapter  xx. 

IV,  ii,  82.     Cartophylax :  guardian  of  papers. 

IV,  ii,  85.  The  old  stage  direction  in  this  line  shows  that  when  the  play  was 
first  presented  the  demons  attendant  on  Behemoth  stood  about  him  like 
torch-bearers.  As  Cartophylax  spoke,  one  of  these  spirits  departed 
with  his  torch. 

IV,  ii,  93.  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,  98.  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,  u,  108.     Beyond  reflection  :  beyond  all  possibility  of  his  being  turned  back. 

IV,  ii,  109.  A  glass  of  ink  :  a  letter  which,  like  a  mirror,  reflects  Tamyra's 
unfaithfulness. 

IV,  ii,  112.     Fame's  sepulchres  :   the  tomb  of  her  good  name. 

IV,  ii,  125.     '  Whom  all  our  efforts  have  been  unable  to  discover.' 

IV,  ii,  165-8.  '  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,  182.  The  feeling  centre  :  the  conscious  earth,  which  was  then  thought 
of  as  the  centre  of  the  universe. 

IV,  ii,  184-5.     Possibly  Chapman  is  thinking  here  of  the  famous  passage  in 
the  Odyssey,  XX,  351-4,  where  the  walls  of  Ulysses'  house  sweat  blood 
before  his  approaching  vengeance  on  the  suitors. 

V,  i.     The   one  bearing  light,    etc.,   is   supposed  to   be   a   servant   of  Mont- 

surry.  His  appearance  here  is  caused  by  the  fact  that  there  ^as  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,  i,  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 
laurel  during  thunderstorms  for  fear  of  the  lightning.  Whitney's  Choice 
of  Emblems,  p.  67,  shows  a  man  clinging  to  a  laurel  tree  for  protection 
against  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  frappez  du  foudre. 
Chapman  may  have  seen  this. 

V,  i,  20.     The  wild  seed  of  vapour :  the  lightning. 

V,  i,  5&-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,  67-8.  My  rocks :  my  revenge,  or,  perhaps,  the  ambush  I  am  preparing. 
Thy  ruffian  galley :  Bussy,  thy  swaggering  gallant,  spoken  of  hi  1.  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  go  back  to  the  story  of  Mars  and 
Venus  caught  in  a  net  by  Vulcan.  Similar  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 

V,  i,  84.  For  all  the  comets :  '  in  spite  of  all  the  comets.' — Boas.  Comets 
were  thought  to  portend  disasters. 

V,  i,  91.  Nor  in  human  consort :  nor  do  men  lost  in  the  wilderness  of  a  woman's 
beauty  find  human  fellowship. 

V,  i,  93.  Pelion  and  Cytharon  :  Pelion,  or  Pelium,  a  mountain  in  Thessaly, 
the  haunt  of  many  wild  beasts. 

Cytharon,  or  Cithaaron,  a  range  of  mountains  hi  Greece,  abounding  in 
game.  Lions  and  wolves  are  said  to  have  been  found  there  in  prehistoric 
times.  See  Chapman's  note  on  Cytheron  in  the  Gloss  to  The  Shadow 
of  Night  (Poems,  p.  17). 

V,  i,  128-30.  '  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  Montsurry's  sullied  honour 
can  only  be  washed  clean  in  blood. 

V,  i,  142.  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 
4  I  will  make  the  likeness  between  us  perfect,  make  myself  the  image 
of  cruelty,  as  thou  art  of  adultery,  1.  140. 

V,  i,  148.  '  The  image  of  thy  unnatural  depravity  is  not  yet  fully  completed.' 
— Boas. 

V,  i,  145.     This  other  engine :  the  rack. 

V,  i,  151.  '  Tamyra  thinks  that  some  evil  spirit  has  taken  her  husband's 
shape .' — Boas. 

V,  i,  158.  The  sudden  and  apparently  uncaused  death  of  the  Friar  is  a  curious 
anticipation  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. 

V,  i,  183-72.  This  passage  at  once  grotesque  and  grandiose  is  eminently 
characteristic  of  Chapman.  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  close 
and  most  inennerable  pander  to  Tamyra's  sin.  In  his  amazement  at  this 
discovery,  the  very  frame  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-concealed  illusions,  so  that  men  may  see  how  she  is 
held  together  and  maintained  in  being  by  hypocrisy. 

V,  i,  181.    His  :  i.e.  man's,  anticipating  man  in  1.  182. 

V,  i,  191.  In,  ril  after :  Montsurry  is  addressing  the  corpse  of  the  Friar, 
which  he  here  drags  to  the  secret  vault. 

V,  ii,  12-15.  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  gives  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  ruin. 

V,  ii,  20.     With  terror :   '  inspiring  terror  in  their  enemies.' — Boas. 

V,  ii,  38.  '  Her  treasury  of  noble  qualities  so  largely  expanded  in  the  endow 
ment  of  a  single  man,'  i.e.  Bussy. 

V,  ii«  46-53.  This  passage  is  borrowed,  as  Boas  notes,  direct  from  Seneca, 
Agamemnon,  11.  64-72. 

Non  sic  Libycts  Syrtibus  aequor 
Furit  alternos  volvere  fluctus,  etc. 


560  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

The  old  translation  (Seneca — His  Tenne    Tragedies,   1581)  renders  the 
passage  as  follows: 

Not  so  the  raging  sea  doth  boyle  upon  the  sand, 
Where  as  the  southern  winde  that  blowes  in  A  f rick  lande, 
One  wave  upon  another  doth  heape  with  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,  57.     'Will  try  the  strength  of  your  hidden  armour.'  Cf.  note  on  V,  iv,  41-6. 

V,  iii,  17.  His  upper  weed :  his  outer  garment,  i.e.  the  Friar's  gown  which 
Montsurry  had  taken  from  the  corpse,  V,  i,  191. 

V,  iii,  23.     This  embodied  shadow  :  this  ghost  when  it  was  still  a  mortal  body. 

V,  iii,  28.  My  set  brain:  my  mind  set,  or  determined,  on  knowing  how 
things  stand. 

V,  iii,  41-7.  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  Darkness 
[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. 

V,  iii,  71.     '  If  my  death  fulfils  his  prediction.' 

V,  iii,  103.  The  signs  :  the  signs  of  the  heavens,  with  particular  reference 
to  the  stars  which  govern  man's  life. 

V,  iv,  9.  '  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  (Bullen,  Old  Plays,  vol.  iii,  p.  326) ; 

/  know  the  villayne  Burbon  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,  iv,  23.    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  vault  gives  entrance. 
V,  iv,  27-8.     '  What  bugbear  such  as  this  threat  of  murder  does  not  shrink 

in  fear  from  the  very  sleep  of  Bussy.' 
V,  iv,  41-6.     As  the  murderers  enter  at  one  door,  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. 
V,  iv,  52.     A  speeding  sleight  and  well  resembled :    a  successful  trick  which 

gave  him  (Montsurry)  the  very  resemblance  of  the  Friar.     Cf.  The  Gentle 
man  Usher,  V,  iv,  20. 

V,  iv,  65.     Enforce  the  spot :  '  emphasize  the  stain  on  your  honour.' — Boas. 
V,  iv,  82.     '  Then  the  preachers  who  tell  us  of  the  supreme  importance  of  the 

soul  deal  only  with  forms,  not  with  facts.' 
V,  iv,  83-4.     '  Man  is  composed  of  two  devoted  friends  (body  and  soul), 

who  stand  in  the  same  relation  to  each  other  as  lover  and  mistress.' 
V,   iv,   90-3.     The  anecdote  comes  originally  from  Suetonius,  Vespasian,  24. 
V,  iv,  100-8.     Adapted,  as  Boas  notes,  from   Seneca,   Hercules   Ontaeus,   11. 

1522-30  : 

O  decus  mundi,  radiate  Titan, 
Cujus  ad  primos  Hecate  vapores,  etc. 

which  the  old  translation  renders  as  follows  : 


NOTES  561 

'  O  Titan  crownd  with  blazing  bush  whose  morning  moystures  make 
The  Moone  her  foamy  bridell  from  her  tyred  teame  to  take, 
Declare  to  W  Easterlinges  whereas  the  ruddy  morne  doth  rise, 
Declare  unto  the  Irishmen  aloof e  at  western  skies, 
Make  knowne  unto  the  Moores  annoyed  by  flaming  axentree, 
Those  that  with  the  ysy  Wayne  of  Archas  pestred  bee, 
Display  to  these  that  Hercules  to  th'  eternal  ghosts  is  gone 
And  to  the  hauling  mastiff  cs  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  your  lady. 

V,  iv,  184-140.  This  is  a  passage  to  which  it  seems  almost  impossible  to  attach 
any  definite  meaning.  This  killing  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  is  that  under  the  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. 

V,  iv,  149.  D' Ambois  like  Hercules  is  to  become  a  star  in  the  heavens.  See 
Seneca,  Hercules  Oetaeus,  11.  1568-79  : 

Sed  locum  virtus  habet  inter  astra,  etc. 

V,  iv,  151.  The  vast  crystal :  the  highest,  or  crystalline,  sphere  in  which  the 
star  of  Bussy  will  be  set. 

V,  iv,  203.     Arriv'd :  i.e.  at  my  goal  of  death. 

V,  iv,  211-14.  The  figure  of  the  wax  taper,  started  in  1.  209,  is  still  continued. 
The  sweet  taste  of  the  honey,  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,  218.  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. 
Epilogue.  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  in  these  pages  by  the  symbols  which  here  accompany  them :  the 
first  quarto,  1607  (A)  ;  the  quarto  of  1641  (B)  ;  Dilke's  edition,  Old  Plays, 
1815,  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  modern  emendations.  For  an  elaborate  study  of  the  text  see 
Englische  Studien,  v.  38,  p.  359,  ssq.  In  the  Q,  the  play  is  divided  into  acts, 
but  not  into  scenes. 

O.D.W.  o  o 


562 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


Prologue.     Wanting  in  A. 
Dramatis    Personae.     No    such    list 
appears  in  the  Qq.     That  given 
here  is  based,  with  a  few  differ 
ences,  on  that  of  Boas. 
I,  i,  5.  A,  incessant ;    B,   continual. 
8.  A,  forging  ;    B,  forming. 
10.  A,    our    tympanouse    statists  ; 

B,  men  meerely  great. 
20.  A,   powers  ;    B,   wealth. 
25.  A,  glad  ;  B,  faine. 
31.  A,  world  ;  B,  earth. 
1    36.  AB,  words  ;  P,  misprints  worde. 
40.  A,  poore  ;  B,  meane. 

43.  A,  likely  ;  B,  possible. 

44.  A,  fit  I ;  B,  good  to. 

57.  A,   Think' st ;    B,   Callest. 
80.  A,  doth  ;  B,  doe. 

82.  A,  wish  me  doe  ;    B,  wish  me. 

83.  A,  as  ;  B,  where. 

92.  A,  portly  ;  B,  humorous. 

110.  A,  eies  ;  B,  Jot^s. 

113.  A,  rude  ;  B,  oW. 

117.  A,  ruVd  ;  B,  wise. 

122-5.  Wanting  in  A. 

126.  A,  But  hee's  no  husband  heere  ; 
B,  To  fit  his  seed-land  soyl. 

130,  A,  with  ;  B,  for. 

153.  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,  ii,  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. 

153.  A  and  B,  the  ;  P,  misprints 
tha. 

156.  A,  A  passe ;    B,  His  passe. 

157.  A,  good  fashion  ;    B,  respect. 
167.  A,    his   wise   excellencie ;    B, 

your  great  masters  goodnesse. 
170.  A,  bad ;  B,  rude. 
180.  A,  highnes  ;  B,  Graces. 
187.  A,  scholar  ;  B,  poet. 

192.  A,    excellence ;    B,    bounteous 
Grace. 

193.  A,     to     your     deserts      The 
reverend    vertues    of    a    faithful 
Steward  ;  B,  to  you  of  long  ones. 

196.  A,   merrie ;    B,   pleasant. 

197.  A,  beleeve  it ;   B,  berlady. 
199.  A,  my  Lord;    B,  his  Grace. 
208-10.  A  omits   these  lines. 
212.  A,  Serve  God  ;    B,  //  you  be 

thriftie   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  1606 
for  the  abuse  of  the  name  of  God 
in  stage-plays. 
222.  A,  sown ;  B,  set. 

their  fruit.  The  copy  of  B 
in  the  Bodleian  reads  the  fruit. 
Two  copies  in  the  British 
Museum  their  fruit. 

I,  ii.  I  have  added  to  the  original 
stage  direction  at  the  beginning 
of  this  scene,  which  consists  only 
of  the  names  of  the  characters, 
two  phrases  based  upon  a  pre 
vious  stage  direction.  See  above 
note  on  I,  i,  153. 

I,  ii,  2.  A,  this  ;  B,  that. 

4.  A,  under  hand ;  B,under  the  hand. 

10.  A,     Court    forme;    B,     Court- 
fashion. 

11.  A,    semi-gods ;     B,    demi-gods. 
14-5  A  omits. 

18.  A,  boast;   B,  vaunt. 
20.  A,    rudenesse ;     B,    clowneries. 
32.  A,    deformitie ;     B,    confusion. 
47.  A,  first  borne  ;   B,  sole  heire. 

53.  A,  and  we  ;  B,  and  we  more. 

54.  A,    to   be    the   pictures   of  our 
vanitie. 

56.  A  omits. 

58.  A,  this  Gentleman  f  attend  you. 

B,  a  Gentleman  to  court. 
60-61.  Printed  as  prose  in  Qq. 

62.  A,  /  like  ;  B,  we  like. 

63.  A,  /  have ;   B,  we  have. 

67.  In  this  line  I  follow  B.  A  has 
He  that  will  winne,  must  wooe  her  ; 
shee's  not  shamelesse,  which  Bo. 
prefers. 

68-75.  Printed  as  prose  in  Qq. 

71.  A,  my  love ;   B,  sweet  heart. 

72.  A,  Beaupres  ;  B,  Beaupre. 
76.  A  omits. 

84-6.  A  omits. 

93.  The  stage-direction  after  this 
line  comes  after  the  words,  an 
other  riddle  (1.  133)  in  A.  B 
has  the  misprint  Pyrlot  in  this 
direction. 

94-105.  A  omits. 

114.  A,  Sir ;    B,    Duke. 

114-5.  A,  madam ;  B,  princely 
mistresse. 

115.  A  omits  another  riddle. 
118.  A,  good  ;  B,  young. 

121-6.  These  lines,  plus  a  speech 
by  Guise,  So,  sir,  so,  cancelled 
in  B,  appear  after  the  words, 
Another  riddle  (I.  133)  in  A. 


NOTES 


563 


128-88.  B  prints  this  speech  as 
verse,  the  lines  ending  many, 
of,  owne,  talk.  Bo.  prints  it  as 
prose  ;  I  think  the  arrangement 
in  the  text  justifies  itself. 

188.  A,  more  courtship,  as  you  love 
it;B,  Another  riddle. 

160.  A,  Ardor;    B,  Their  heat. 

181.  A,  roaring  ;   B,  braying. 

187.  A  omits  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

192.  Qq,  how ;  the  who  in  Bo.  is  a 
misprint. 

201,  204,  208.  A  gives  the  speeches 
beginning  with  these  lines  to 
Pyrhot,  Barrisor,  and  L'Anou 
respectively.  I  follow  the  ar 
rangement  of  B. 

201-8.  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. 

201.  A,  strange  credulitie ;  B, 
miraculous  jealousie. 

202-3.  A  omits  the  matter  of. 

207.  A,  with ;  B,  in. 

212.  A  omits  else: 

II,  i.  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,  11.  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 
Boas's  edition  published  in  the 
Sydney  Bulletin  (Australia)  sug 
gests  that  Beaumond  is  the  name 
of  the  Nuntius  who  enters  after 
1.  24  ;  but  I  think  that  Chapman 
in  this  Senecan  passage  would 
be  more  like  to  introduce  a  name 
less  Nuntius. 
H  i,  11.  A,  When;  B,  Where. 

27.  A,  his  ;  B,  their. 

70.  A,  sparkl'd ;  B  misprints 
spakVd. 

120.  A,  quicke  an  eie  ;  B,  swift  a 
foot. 

128.  I  follow  A,  the  tw'  other,  in  pre 
ference  to  the  unpronounceable 
th'  tw'  other  of  B. 

129.  I  follow  A,  spirits,  in  prefer 
ence  to  B,  spirit. 

183.  A  omits  the  words  but  he  in 
the  King's  speech.  It  is  possible 
that  they  may  have  crept  into 
B  by  mistake,  but  I  incline  to 


think    that    they    were    added 
deliberately. 

135.  A,  feebled  ;  B,  freckled. 

136.  A,  cheekes  ;  B,  lips. 
166.  A,  full ;  B,  true. 
185.  A,  violent ;  B,  daring. 

193.  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. 

204.  A,  King  ;  B,  Law. 

207.  B  omits  the  words  Mort  Dieu, 
probably  for  fear  of  the  censor. 
I  restore  them  from  A. 

210-18.  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  the  end: 

I  have  obtained  a  kingdom  with 
my  friend. 

,  ii.  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,  Charlotte,  Pyrha. 

Mont.     He  will  have  pardon  sure. 

Tarn.  Twere  pittie  else  : 

For  though  his  great  spirit  something 
overflow, 

All  faults  are  still  borne,  that  from 
greatnesse  grow  : 

But  such  a  sudden  courtier  saw  I 
never. 

Beau.  He  was  too  sudden,  which 
indeede  was  rudenesse. 

Tarn.  True,  for  it  argued  his  no  due 
conceit. 

Both  of  the  place,  and  greatnesse  of 
the  persons : 

Nor  of  our  sex :  all  which  (we  all 
being  strangers 

To  his  encounter)  should  have  made 
more  maners 

Deserve  more  welcome. 

Mont .         A II  this  fault  is  found 

Because  he  lov'd  the  Dutchesse  and 
left  you. 

Tarn.  Ahlas,  love  give  her  joy  ;  I 
am  so  farre 

From  Envie  of  her  honour,  that  I 
sweare, 


564 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


Had  he  encounterd  me  such  proud 

sleight  : 
I  would  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  modest, 
When  she  perceived  the  Duke  her 

husband  take 
Those  late  exceptions  to  her  servants 

Courtship 
To  entertaine  him. 
Tarn.  /,  and  stand  him  still. 

Letting  her  husband  give  her  servant 

place  : 
Though  he  did  manly,  she  should  be 

a  woman. 

Enter  Guise. 
D'Airibois   is   pardon1  d:    wher's   a 

king  ?  where  law  ? 
See  how  it  runnes,  much  like  a  tur 
bulent  sea  ; 
Heere  high,  and  glorious,  as  it  did 

contend 
To  wash  the  heavens,  and  make  the 

stars  more  pure : 
And  heere  so  low,  it  leaves  the  mud  of 

hell 
To  every  common  view  ;  come  count 

Montsurry 

We  must  consult  of  this. 
Tarn.  Stay  not,  sweet  Lord. 

Mont.     Be   pleased,    He   strait  re- 

turne. 

Exit  cum  Guise. 

Tamy.     Would  that  would  please  me. 
Beau.      lie   leave   you   Madam   to 

your  passions. 
I  see,  ther's  change  of  weather  in  your 

lookes.  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  begot  : 
When  extreame  cold  hath  stroke  it  to 

her  heart, 
The  more  it  is  comprest,  the  more  it 

rageth  ; 
^Exceeds   his   prisons   strength   that 

should  containe  it, 
And  then  it  tosseth  Temples  in  the 

aire  ; 

All  barres  made  engines,  to  his  inso 
lent  fury  : 

So,  of  a  sudden,  my  licentious  fancy 
Riots  within  me :  not  my  name  and 

house 


Nor  my  religion  to  this  houre  observed 
Can  stand  above  it :    I  must  utter 

that 
That  will  in  parting  breake  more 

strings  in  me, 
Than  death  when  life  parts :    and 

that  holy  man 
That,  from  my   cradle,  counseld  for 

my  soule : 
I  now  must  make  an  agent  for  my 

bloud. 

Enter  Monsieur. 
Mons.     Yet,   is  my  mistresse  gra- 

tious  ? 

Tamy.  Yet  unanswered  ? 

This  passage  does  not,  I  think, 

contain    anything    of    dramatic 

importance,   and  was  advisedly 

cancelled. 
21.  A,    weighing   a   dissolute ;     B, 

joyning  a  lose. 

26.  A,  solemne  ;    B,   common. 
61.  A  gives  Tamyra's  speech  in  this 

line  to  Mont[surry]. 

85.  A,  profit ;  B,  honour. 

86.  A  and  B,  no  ;    P,  not,  a  mis 
print. 

96.  A  omits. 

97.  Qq.  wave.    This  palpable  mis 
print  was  corrected  by  D. 

108.  A,  the  ;  B  misprints  yee. 

122.  A,  that  that ;    B,  that  which. 

123.  A,  For  love  is  hatefull  without 
love  againe. 

126.  A  omits  the  stage  direction  ; 

B  places  it  after  1.  123. 
127-31.  For  these  lines  A  has : 
See,  see  the  gulfe  is  opening  that 

will  swallow 

Me  and  my  fame  forever  ;  I  will  in. 
132.  A  omits  the  stage  direction 

Ascendit,  etc.,  after  this  line. 
183.  For  Friar  A  has  Comolet,  and 

so  throughout  the  play. 
191.  A  omits  the  words  with  a  book 

in  the  stage  direction  after  this 

line. 
216.  A,  sits  ;  B,  wakes. 

224.  A,  Was  something  troubled. 
B,   Made  some  deep  scruple. 

225.  A,   hand ;    B,   honour. 
228-30.  A  omits  the  words  from 

his  long  to  perfections  inclusive, 
also  ready  in  1.  230. 

236.  A,   comfort ;    B,   good. 

245-6.  A  omits  the  stage  directions 

after  these  lines. 

Ill,  i.  The  stage  direction  at  the  begin 
ning  of  this  scene  in  A  is  simply 
Bucy,  Tamyra. 

HI,  i,  1-2.  A  omits. 


NOTES 


565 


28.  A,   Goddesse;    B,   servile. 

34.  A,  our  one  soul  ;  B,  omits  our. 

85.  A,  truth ;  B,  selfe. 

37.  A,  men ;  B,  one. 

46-61.  These  lines,  with  the  stage 
directions  after  1.  50  and  1.  61, 
are  wanting  in  A,  which  has  after 
1.  44  Exit  D'Amb.  manet  Tamy. 

92.  A,  thy  beauties  ;   B,  thine  eyes. 

118.  A,     underneath     the     King. 

B,  under  our  King's  arme. 
Ill,    ii.  Stage    direction.     The    text 
follows  B.     A  has  after  Guise, 
Mont.  Elenor  [i.e.,  the  Duchess] 
Tarn.  Pero. 

Ill,  ii,  1.  A,  Speake  home  my  Bussy  ; 
B  omits  my,  thus  giving  tho 
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. 

16.  A,  truth  ;  B,  man. 

29.  A,  than  ;  B,  by. 

53.  A,  oppressed  ;  B,  besieged. 
58.  A,  the  tother ;   B,  the  rest. 
67.  A,  charge ;  B,  bout. 
76.  Qq.    nobly ;     I    accept    Bo.'s 

emendation  noblier. 
89.  A,  equall ;  B,  honoured. 
96.  A,  eminence ;  B,  empire. 

104.  A,  out  one  sticke  ;  B,  one  stick 
out. 

105.  A,  was  comprised ;    B,  bound 
our  lifes. 

107.  A,  ingenuous  ;  B,  ingenious 
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. 

121.  A,  Engender  not ;  B,  Decline 
not  to. 

131-8.  These  lines  are  wanting  in 
A,  as  is  the  stage- direction  follow 
ing.  For  this  A  has  after  1.  130 
Exeunt  Henry,  D'Amb.,  Ely.,  Ta. 

140.  A,  proper,;  B,  worthy. 

149.  A,  gadding ;   B,  ranging. 

152.  A,  and  indeed ;  B,  for,  you 
know. 

154.  Qq.  advantage.  I  restore  the 
s  which  I  think  has  dropped  out. 
Sense  and  metre  seem  to  me  to 
demand  this. 

160-1.  A,  being  old,  And  cunning 
in  his  choice  of  lay  res  ;  B,  the  hart 


Being  old  and  cunning  in  his 
lay  res. 

163-4.  A,  where  his  custome  is 
To  beat  his  vault,  and  he  ruts ; 
B.  where  (behind  some  Queich) 
He  breaks  his  gall  and  rutteth. 

168.  A,  greatest ;  B,  chief est. 

172.  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  shall  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. 

185.  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.  Printed  as  verse  in  Qq., 
but  it  seems  plainly  prose. 

189.  A,  concerning  thy  ;   B,  of  thy. 

190.  A,  promised  ;  B,  sworne  to  thee . 

191.  A,  that  you  have  sworne ;   B, 
your  assurance. 

195.  A,  50  it  be  not  to  one  that  will 
betray  thee  ;  B,  so  wee  reach  our 
objects. 

199.  A  omits  the  exclamation  mark 
after  Excellent. 

200.  A,    into    earth   heete ;     B,  to 
perdition. 

202.  A,    wondring;     B,    watching. 

A  omits  up  after  stole. 

206.  A,  she  set  close  at  a  banquet ; 

B,   her  selfe  reading  a  letter. 

209.  A,  No,  my  Lord;  B,  /  sweare. 

211-2.  A  omits    the  words    from 

Why,  this  to  Oh  the  inclusive. 
216.  A    omits    the    words    never 

dreaming  of*D'Amboys.°- 

219.  A,  his  conveyance  ;  B,  this  con 
veyance. 

220.  A,  could  ;  B,  should. 

A,  performed ;  B,  made. 

226.  A    lacks    the  stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

227.  Before  this  line  A  has  two 
speeches  cut  out  in  B. 

Char.  /  sweare  to  your  Grace, 
all  that  I  can  conjecture  touching 
my  Lady  your  Neece,  is  a  strong 
affection  she  beares  to  the  English 
Mylor. 

Gui.  A II  quod  you  ?  tis  enough 
I  assure  you,  but  tell  me. 


566 


BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


234.  Between    life    and    especially 
A  has  the  words  if  she  marks 
it. 

235.  A,  put  off ;    B,  disguise. 
238.  A,  at ;  B,  from. 

244.  A,  We  be ;  B,  We  are. 

259.  Qq.  in  it ;  Bo.  reads  thin  it. 

263.  A  omits  great. 

268.  A,  end  of  you  ;  B,  end  of  it. 

273.  A,  /  leave  ;   B,  we  leave. 

274.  A,  my  mercies;  B,  our  mercies. 
281.  A  omits  thought. 

288.  A,  horrible  ;  B,  miraculous. 
293.  A,  My  Lord,  tis  true,  and  ;  B, 

Well,  my  Lord. 
295-6.  A  omits  this  speech. 
301.    A,     monster- formed    cloudes  ; 

B,  dark  and  standing  foggs. 
304.  Qq.  in  Bodleian   and  British 

Museum  have  Not  Cerberus.     P. 

and  Bo.  print  Nor. 
306-75.  Instead  of  this  long  pas 
sage  A  has  only  the  following 

lines  ; 
I  will  conceale  all  yet,  and  give  more 

time 
To  D'Ambois  triall,  now  upon  my 

hooke  ; 
He  awes  my  throat ;  else  like  Sybillas 

cave 
It  should  breath  oracles  ;    I  feare 

him  strangely, 
And   may    resemble    his    advanced 

valour 

Unto  a  spirit  rais'd  without  a  circle, 
Endangering    him    that    ignorantly 

rais'd  him, 
And  for  whose  furie  he  hath  learn' d 

no  limit. 
375.  B,   puts   the  stage  direction 

Enter  Bussy  in  the  margin  after 

leap'st  thou  at  1.  376. 
378.  A,  head  ;  B,  browes. 
381.  A,  Sir  ;  B,  Prince. 
384-92.  A  omits, 
393.  A,    This  still   hath   made   me 

doubt  thou  do'st  not  love  me. 
894.  A,  for  me  then  ;    B,  therefore 

now. 
397-400.  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. 

403.  A,  affection  ;  B,  still  flourish 
ing  tree. 

404.  A  omits. 
409.  A  omits. 

422.  A,  begin,  and  speake  me  simply  ; 
B,  pay  me  home,  He  bide  it 
bravely. 


425.  A,  to  feed;  B,misptintssofeed. 
431.  A,  wife  ;  B,  strumpet. 

444.  A,  that  valour  ;  B,  thy  valour. 
A,  my  dunghill  ;  B,  the  dung 
hill. 

445.  A,  I  carrie  ;  B,  hath  reference. 
483.  A,  A  perfect ;   B,  The  purest. 
485-6.  Qq.    have    no  point    after 

tender  and  a  semi-colon  after 
lust.  I  think  the  present  punc 
tuation  brings  out  the  true  sense 
of  the  passage. 

IV,  i.  In  the  stage  direction  at  the 
beginning  of  the  scene  A  omits 
with  a  letter. 
IV,  i,  5.  A,  fare  ;  B,  foule. 

16.  A,  images  ;  B,  idols. 

21.  A  omits. 

24.  A,   motions  ;    B,  faculty. 

26-9.  In  A  these  lines  belong  to 
Bussy. 

28.  A,  predominance ;    B,  divided 
empires. 

29.  A,  claime ;  B,  prove. 

38.  A,   tyrannous ;    B,   priviledge. 

65.  A,  but ;  B,  and. 

70-8.  For  these  lines  A  has  : 

Buc.     No,  I  thinke  not, 

Mons.          Not  if  I  nam'd  the  man 

With   whom    I   would   make    him 

suspicious 

His  wife  hath  armd  his  forehead  ? 
Buc.  So  you  might 

Have  your  great  nose  made  lesse 

indeed :  and  slit. 
92.  A,   toughness  ;    B,   roughnesse. 

Possibly  B  is  a  misprint.     The 

root  of  the  box-tree  was  famous 

for  its  hardness. 
96.  A  omits  the. 

103.  A,  spirit ;  B,  minde. 

104.  A,  effect ;  B,  desert. 

112.  A,  is  comming  to  afflict;    B, 

steales  on  to  ravish. 
117.  A  omits  and  Ladies  in  the 

stage  direction. 
182.  A  puts   this  stage  direction 

after  under  in  1.  134,  and  omits 

Exeunt  Guise  and   Monsieur. 
147.  A  omits  this  stage  direction. 
151-4.  A,    Sweete  Lord,   cleere  up 

those  eies  for  shame  of  noblesse : 
Mercilesse    creature ;      but    it    is 

enough. 
B,    Sweet    Lord,   \cleare  'up    those 

eyes,  unbend  that  masking  fore 
head, 
Whence  is  it  you  rush  upon  her  with 

these  Irish  wanes 
More  full  of  sound  then  hurt  ?    But 

it  is  enough. 


NOTES 


567 


1  restore  the  words  for  shame  of 
noblesse,  which  I  believe  to  have 
been  accidentally  dropped,  and 
rearrange  so  as  to  bring  out  th« 
metre. 

180.  A,  hand  ;  B,  fingers. 

190.  A,  art ;   B  misprints  are. 

193.  A,  Even  to  his  teeth  (whence, 
in  mine  honors  soile. 

205-9.  papers  hold  .  .  .  for  it. 
For  these  lines  A  has : 

Be  not  nice 

For  any  trifle,  jeweld  with  your 
honour, 

To  pawne  your  honor. 

212.  A,  much  ;    B,  well. 

217.  A,  my  Lord  ;  B,  this  touch. 

282.  A,    lie  attend  your  lordship. 
B,  but  I  will  to  him. 

284.  A,  Speake ;  B,  M  eet. 

236.  A  omits. 

IV,  ii.  A  omits  lines  1-18  inclusive, 
opening  with  the  stage  direction 
She  enters,  her  maid,  for  which  B 
has  Musick :  Tamyra  enters  with 
Pero  and  her  maid,  etc. 

21.  A  omits  curs'd. 

24.  After  this  line  A  has  Father, 
followed  by  the  stage  direction 
Ascend  it  Bussy  with  Comolet. 

27-80.  Our  love  .  .  .  fool  but  he. 
A  omits  this  passage,  reading 
instead : 

D'Amb.     What    insensate    stocke, 

Or  rude  inanimate  vapour  without 
fashion. 

60.  A,  ye  see  ;  B,  you  see. 

51.  A  omits  the  stage  direction  after 
this  line. 

66.  A,  calledst ;  B,  call'dst. 

77.  A,  one ;    B,  on. 

99.  The  Qq.  wrongly  give,  the 
speech,  No  .  .  .  see,  to  Monsieur. 
Dilke  gives  it  to  Behemoth. 
Boas  correctly  to  the  Friar. 

107-8.  Both  A  and  B  give  Pre  as 
the  speaker  of  these  lines,  pro 
bably  a  mere  misprint  for 
Beh[emoth]. 

109.  A,  wherein  you  see  ;  B,  where 
you  may  see. 

182.  A  omits  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

186.  I  have  followed  Bo.'s  arrange 
ment  of  the  stage  direction  in 
this  line.  A  has  only  Exit  Mont. 
after  f  faith,  1.  136,  and  B,  Exit 
Mont,  and  stabs  Pero. 

136.  A,  ill ;  B,  cruelly. 

139.  A,  be,  at  least,  if  not  a ;  B, 
rather  be  a  bitter. 


141.  A  omits  the  words   To  you 

.  .  .  To  me. 
144.  A  omits  the  stage  direction. 

161.  A,  stay  (perhaps  a  misprint 
for  stayne)  ;  B,  die. 

162.  A,  with  ;   B,  in. 

his  forc'd.Qq.  Dilke  and  Boas  read 
her.  This  gives  a  plainer  sense, 
but  I  think  his  may  stand. 

168.  A,  and  let  him  curb  his  rage 
with  policy. 

189.  A,  print ;  B,  taint. 

193.  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. 

21.  A,  than  it ;  B,  than  that. 

24.  Qq.  no  more  ;  P,  to  more,  a  mis 
print. 

28.  A,  hateful ;  B,  secret. 

32.  A,  touch ;  B,  tread. 

86.  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  reading,  your  terrors  Tempt 
not  a  man  distracted.  I  follow 
Bo.'s  punctuation. 

40.  A,  God  ;  B,  Heaven.   I  follow  A. 
A,  ye  ;  B,  you. 

42-4.  A  omits. 

46.  A,  heart;  B,  breast. 

46.  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. 

60.  A,  God ;  B,  Heaven.  As  in  1. 
40,  I  follow  A,  taking  B  to  be  a 
change  to  avoid  the  law  of  1606. 

68.  A,  laden  for  thy  ;  B,  rig'd  with 
quench  for.  On  the  significance 
of  this  new  reading  see  Modern 
Language  Review,  January,  1908, 
p.  138. 

91.  A,    distract:     B,    devoure. 
A,  state  ;  B,  consort. 

96.  A,  sins  ;  B,  faults. 

129-30.  A  omits  the  words  from 
with  to  cruelty.  L.  130  reads  in  B 

Of  the  like  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,  still ;  B,  ever. 

141.  A,  like  in  ill ;    B,  parallel. 
146.  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  direction,  also  the 

direction  Falls  and  dies  after  1. 

155- 

174.  A,  innocent ;    B,  worthy. 
193.  A  omits  stage  direction  at  the 

close  of  this  scene  except  the 

word  Exeunt. 
V,   ii.  This  whole  scene,   except  11. 

54-9,  which  are   wanting  in  A, 

was    originally    placed    at    the 

beginning  of  V,  iv. 
V,  ii,  3.  A,  who  makes  ;  B,  that  makes. 

7.  Not  knowing  what  they  say.     In 
stead  of  these  words  A  has  the 
following  lines  : 

In  whose  hot  zeale  a  man  would 
think e  they  knew 

What  they  ratine  so  away  with,  and 
were  sure 

To  have  rewards  proportioned  to 
their  labours  ; 

"Yet  may  implore  their  owne  con 
fusions 

For  anything  they  know,  which  often 
times 

It  fals  out  they  incurre. 

8.  A,  masse ;  B,  deale. 

13-7.  This  passage  is  so  badly 
printed  in  B  as  to  make  nonsense 
which  has  puzzled  most  editors. 
I  have  followed  the  perfectly 
clear  reading  of  A  for  these  lines. 
The  variants  in  B  are  :  1.  13  for 
wee  call,  she  calls  ;  1.  14  for 
believe,  belief  e  ;  for  should,  must  ; 
1.  1 6  for  Right,  Even  ;  for  men 
ihinke,  me  thinks  ;  for  gard  them, 
guard.  Any  one  who  tries  to 
reconstruct  the  passage  in  the 
text  along  theselines  will,  I  think, 
feel  as  I  do,  that  Chapman  had 
made  certain  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  unintelligibility. 

25.  A,    decorum ;     B,    proportion. 

28.  A,  an  absolute';  B,  a  perfect. 

29.  A,  whole ;  B,  full. 

32.  A,  Why  you  shall ;  B,  Yet  shall 

you. 

38.  A,  let  it ;    B  misprints  let's  it . 
40.  A,  rages  ;  B,  rage. 
41-8.  For  these  lines  A  has  only  : 

So   this  full  creature  now  shall 

reele  and  fall. 

44.  A,  purblinde ;    B,  blind  borne. 
48.  A,  euxine  ;  B,  Euxian. 
53.  A   omits   the   stage    direction 

after  this  line  and  1.  54-9. 


V,  iii.  A  omits  with  tapers  in  the  stage 
direction  at  the  beginning  of  this 
scene,  also  Thunder  after  1.  6, 
and  Thunders  after  11.  53  and  69. 

8.  A,  Crackes  ;  B,  Nods. 

9.  A,  my  ;  B,  deare. 
15-6.  A  omits. 

17.  A,  utmost ;  B,  upper. 

49.  A,  see  ;  B,  shine. 

50.  A,   sense  is  ;    B,   men  are. 
54.  Qq.  [give  Sp.  (i.e.  Spirit)  as  the 

speaker.     I  keep    the   abbrevia 
tion    Beh.    i.e.    Behemoth,  from 

IV,  ii. 

76.  A,  and  force  ;  B,  or  force. 
82.  A  omits  stage  direction  knocks. 
84.  A  omits  with  a  letter  written  in 

blood  in  the  stage  direction. 
85-98.  O     lying     spirit  .  .  .  calls 

him :  for  this  passage  in  B,  A 

has: 
Bussy.     0  lying  Spirit :    welcome, 

loved  father, 

How  fares   my   dearest   mistresse  ? 
Mont.  Well  as  ever, 

Being  well  as  ever  thought  on  by  her 

lord  : 
Wherof  she  sends  this  witnesse  in  her 

hands 
And  praies,  for  urgent  cause,  your 

speediest  presence. 
V,  iv.  For  the  stage  direction  at  the 

beginning  of  this  scene  A  has 

Intrat    umbra    Cpmolet    to    the 

Countesse,  wrapt  in  a  canapie. 
V,  iv,  1-6.  These  lines  are  not  in  A, 

which  has  instead: 
Com.     Revive  those  stupid  thoughts, 

and  sit  not  thus, 
Gathering  the  horrors  of  your  servants 

slaughter 
(So  urg'd  by  your  hand,   and  so 

imminent) 

Into  an  idle  fancie  ;  but  devise. 
9.  A,    engaged ;    B,    revenged. 
14.  A,  fhave ;  B,  have. 
15-22.  Instead   of   these   lines   A 

has; 
Tis   the  just  curse  of  our  abus'd 

creation, 
Which  wee  must  suffer  heere,  and 

scape  heereafter  : 
He  hath  the  great  mind  that  submits 

to  all 

He  sees  inevitable  ;   be  the  small 
That  carps  at  earth,  and  her  founda 
tion  shaker, 
And  rather  than  himself  e,  will  mend 

his  maker. 
22.  The  stage  direction  following 

this  line  is  wanting  in  A,  in  which 


NOTES 


569 


Monsieur  and  Guise  are  on  the 
stage,  presumably  in  a  gallery, 
from  the  beginning. 
83-6.  These  lines  are  wanting  in  A. 

41.  Wanting  in  A. 

42.  The  stage  direction  is  wanting 
in  A. 

43.  The  words  all  but  the  first  are 
wanting  in  A  in  the  stage  direc 
tion. 

53.  The  Qq.  put  the  question  mark 
after  lord. 

66.  In  the  stage  direction  A  has 
others  for  B  all  the  murthcrers. 

71.  A  omits  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

78.  The  stage  direction  is  wanting 
in  A  ;  B  puts  it  before  1.  72. 

90-3.  These  lines  are  wanting  in 
A. 

91.  The  stage  direction,  wanting 
in  A,  occurs  before  1.  94  in  B. 

105.  The  burning  axletree.  P.  mis 
prints  curning  ;  which  S.  further 
distorted  to  cunning.  The  Cen 
tury  Dictionary  not  aware  that 
curning  was  a  misprint,  takes  the 
word  as  a  variant  spelling  from 
'  quern', '  a  handrail!',  and  glosses 
it  as  grinding.  Burning  is  a 
translation  of  the  Latin  ferventi  ; 
see  note  on  this  passage,  p.  561. 

119.  Before  this  line  A  repeats  the 
name  of  the  speaker,  Bus[sy], 
and  for  Note;  has  And. 

135.  A,  gainst ;  B,  in. 

136.  A,  endless  ;   B,  drifts  of. 
146.  For    Qq.    stuck,    Bo.  emends 

struck.  This  does  not  seem 
necessary  ;  cf.  the  use  of  stick  in 
the  sense  of '  pierce '  in  V,  iii,  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  strook  inward,  and 

no  more 
My  pennance  will  allow  they  shall 

enforce 

Earthly  afflictions  but  upon  my  selfe. 
147.  A,  relicts  ;  B,  r cliques. 
149.  A,  Joine  flames  with  Hercules  ; 

B  misprints  Jove  flames  with  her 

rules. 
151.  A,    continent;     B,    chrystall. 

154.  Before  this  line  B  repeats  the 
name  of  the  speaker,  Frier. 

155.  After    this    line    A    has    the 
following  cancelled  in  B  : 

Since  thy  revenge  full  spirit  hath 
rejected 

The  cJiaritie  it  commands,  and  the 
remission 

To  serve  and  worship  the  blind  rage 
of  blond. 

163.  A,  sitting  ;    B,  kneeling. 

167.  The  exit  of  the  Umbra  is  not 
noted  in  the  Qq. 

173.  After  this  line  A  has  the 
following,  cancelled  in  B  : 

My  soule  more  scruple  breeds  than 
my  blond  sinne, 

Vertue  imposeth  more  than  any 
stepdame. 

186-7.  These  lines  with  the  follow 
ing  stage  direction  are  wanting 
in  A. 

192.  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. 

201.  A  omits  a  before  hunted. 
The  Epilogue  is  wanting  in  A. 


THE   REVENGE  OF   BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

INTRODUCTION 

THE  Revenge  of  Bussy  D'Ambois  was  entered  in  the  Stationers' 
Registers  on  April  17,  1612,  and  published  in  1613,  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  Helme,  at  his  shop  in  S.  Dunstones 
Church-yard,  in  Fleetstreet,  1613.  The  statement  of  the  title-page, 
together  with  what  is  known  of  one  of  the  sources,  enables  us  to 
fix  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  of  Rossiter,  with  Nat.  Field  as  leading 
actor,  early  in  the  year  I6IO.1  Chapman  seems  to  have  written  for 
this  company  almost  exclusively  since  his  break  with  Henslowe  in 
I599,3  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  1610,  or  in  1611,  which  would  leave  tune  for  the  frequent 
performances  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  5  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,  Ren6e,  took  a  principal  part.  But  this 
statement  first  appeared  in  print  seven  years  after  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  figure  of  Clermont  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, 

1  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  Revels  Company. 

1  Maas  Aussere  Geschichte  dtr  Englischen  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  Modern  Language 
Review,  January,  1908. 

*  For  the  probable  revival  of  Bussy  at  Whitefriars  see  my  article  quoted 
in  the  preceding  note. 

8  Historic  sui  temporis,  vol.  iii,  lib.  Ixvii,  and  vol.  v,  lib.  cxiii. 

671 


572        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

Sieur  de  Bussy  D ' Amboise.  *  And  the  revenge  taken  by  this  imaginary 
hero  upon  his  brother's  murderer  is  as  imaginary  as  the  hero  himself, 
for  the  feud  was  composed  by  order  of  Henry  III  shortly  before  his 
death,2  and  the  historical  Montsurry,  whom  Chapman  represents 
as  dying  under  Clermont's  sword,  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  i6i6.3 

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  long 
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, 
1605,  and  that  of  the  murder  of  Guise  in  Jean  de  Serres'  Inventaire 
General,  and  Mr.  Boas  has  since  pointed  out  6  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  little  change  from  Grimeston's  narrative,  but  the 
account  of  Clermont's  arrest  was  adapted  in  all  its  details,  but  with 
a  complete  change  of  characters,  from  the  seizure  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.  Boas6  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  the  arrest  of  Clermont  is  purely  episodic,  and 
has  so  little  vital  connexion  with  the  main  plot  of  the  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  Bussy's  murder.  I  should  conceive  Chapman's  method 
of  composition  to  have  been  something  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  difficulty. 
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  accomplishment  of  this  charge,  which  constitutes 
the  proper  catastrophe,  must  be  deferred  until  the  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_ 

1  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.  xxxv. 

De  Thou,  vol.  iii,  lib.  Ixvii. 

Joubert,  op.  cit.,  pp.  198-9. 

Koeppel,  Quellen  und  Forschungen,  1897,  p.  43. 

Boas,  Bussy,  p.  xxxii,  ssq. 

Boas,  Bussy,  p.  xxxiv. 


INTRODUCTION  573 

culty  by  deferring  the  incitement  to  revenge  until  the  third  act  * » 
and  as  a  consequence  The  Spanish  Tragedy  drags  woefully  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  sort  an  epilogue.  This  incident  seemed  to  Chapman  to 
possess  a  double  value.  It  would,  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  long 
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.8 
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  modern  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  unworthy,  what  must  Chapman  have  thought 
of  the  other  heroes  of  the  contemporary  tragedy  of  revenge,  Antonio, 
Hoffmann,  and  Vendice,  brutal,  reckless,  half-mad,  and  wholly  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  Hamlet,  Hoffmann,  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 

i  Bellimperia's  letter  to  Hieronimo  in  III,  ii,  may  be  taken  as  constituting 
this  incitement. 

1  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  true  object  of  vengeance.  Clermont  receives  the  charge  of 
revenge  from  his  brother's  ghost. l  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,  110-2).  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,  Clermont 
remains  till  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 
simply  in  obedience  to  the  rules  of  conduct  that  guide  his  life,  re-stated 
by  the  ghos't  and  applied  to  his  present  situation  in  a  speech  remarkable 
for  its  close-packed  and  logically  developed  thought  (V,  i,  78-99).  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  Hamlet  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  '. 

The  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  z  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 

1  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  revenge,  see  I,  i,  83-5. 

2  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  Clermont  to 
undertake  a  new  revenge  for  this  murder,  since  he  holds  that 

There's  no  disputing  with  the  acts  of  kings, 
Revenge  is  impious  on  their  sacred  persons 

— a  sentiment,  by  the  way,  which  savours  rather  more  of  SJuar{  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  all  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  the  revenger,  it  would  be  necessary  to  analyse  the  play 
scene  by  scene,  for  the  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.  A 
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  favour,  popular  applause, 
sensual  gratification,  and  seeks,  in  true  Stoic  fashion,  to  identify  himself 
with  the  moral  order  of  the  Universe.1  Fixing  his  eyes  upon  the 
things  of  the  mind,  Clermont  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  ?    All  is  one.  ".  f 

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.1 

It  is  easy  enough  to  point  out  Chapman's  inferiority  to  Shakespeare  .  i/XA 

as  a  dramatist,  particularly  in  the  matter  of  characterization.     Yet  *   ' 

it  is,  perhaps,  quite  as  capable  of  demonstration  that  hi   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  judge 

Chapman  by  his  own  standard,  we  must  remember  that  to  him,  as 

1  See  especially  the  speeches  adapted  from  Epictetus,   III,  iv,   58    ssq. 
and  IV,  i,  131  ssq.,  and  notes  ad  loc. 

*  See  especially  I,  i,  32-70,  and  the  note  thereon. 


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,1  and  in  the  drama  he  believed  that  '  material 
instruction,  elegant  and  sententious  exhortation  to  virtue,  and  deflec 
tion  from  her  contrary  '  were  '  the  soul,  limbs,  and  limits  of  authentical 
tragedy.'.  2 

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  already  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 
Clermont.  As  a  consequence,  his  character  is  depicted  in  a  wholly 
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  Pussy'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.3  Montsurry,  again,  who  in  Bussy 
commands  in  a  measure,  at  least,  our  respect  for  his  faith  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  taken  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  Chapman's  protest  against  a  popular  type  of  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  beauty  '.  4 

1  See  the  interesting  passage  on  this  point  in  III,  iv,  14-25. 

2  Dedication  to  The  Revenge  of  Bussy. 

3  See  II,  i,  196-234. 

4  Swinburne,  Essay  on  Chapman,  Works — Poems,  p.  xliv. 


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  James  I,  Charles  I,  and  Charles  II.  His  daughter  Elizabeth  married  Dryden, 
and  her  brother,  Sir  Robert,  was  the  well-known  dramatist  and  critic  of  the 
Restoration.  One  of  the  sonnets  'attached  to  his  translation  of  the  Iliad 
by  Chapman  is  addressed  to  Sir  Thomas  Howard.  Here  the  poet  praises 
the  courtier's  patronage  of  '  humblest  merit,'  and  compares  him  to  Homer's 
Antilochus,  '  valiant  and  mild  and  most  ingenious '. 

The  scenical  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  1613  with 
Henslowe's  men,  to  the  author,  who  published  it  with  this  apologetic  dedication. 
.  Of  their  side  :  onjthe  side  of  the  maligners. 

The  authentical  truth.  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  account :  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  immortality  it 
is  interesting  to  compare  the  elaborate  argument  on  this  theme  put  into 
Cato's  mouth  in  Caesar  and  Potnpey,  IV,  v,  90-141. 

The  Actors'  Names.  This  is  the  heading  of  the  list  of  dramatis  persona* 
in  the  first  edition.  Many  of  the  characters  have  already  appeared  in  Bussy. 
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.  Bussy 's  sister,  Renee  (not  Charlotte),  married  Jean 
de  Montluc,  Seigneur  de  Balagny  (hence  Chapman's  Baligny)  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  night  after 
her  husband  signed  the  capitulation  of  Cambrai,  '  not  able  to  endure  that 
so  precious  a  jewel  as  Cambrai  (whereof  she  was  newly  created  princess) 
should  fall  into  the  Spaniards'  cruel  hands'  (.Grimeston,  ed.  1611,  p.  934). 
The  name  of  the  usher,  Perricot,  is  taken  from  Grimeston,  p.  724,  who  gives 
the  name  of  Guise's  secretary  as  Pericart.  The  Ghost  of  Chattilion  is  that 
of  the  great  Huguenot  leader,  Coligny,  frequently  referred  to  by  English 
contemporaries  under  his  family  name  of  Chattilion.  The  name  of  the  servant, 
Riova,  may  be  a  misprint  for  Riona,  which  in  this  case  would  come  from 
the  town,  Ryon,  mentioned  in  Grimeston,  p.  1048. 

I,  i,  5-8.  Given  by  suit,  etc. :  permission  given  to  suitors  to  murder  for  their 
personal  aggrandizement. 

I,  i,  3&-70.  It  is  not  difficult  to  see  in  these  speeches  Chapman's  lament 
over  the  degeneration  of  English  character  during  the  peace  that  followed 
C.D.W.  577  P  P 


578        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

the  accession  of  King  James.  Chapman's  sympathies,  as  became  an 
old  Elizabethan  and  a  panegyrist  of  that  '  thunderbolt  of  war ',  Sir 
Horace  Vere,1  were  all  with  the  war  party. 

I,  i,  34.    Ends  ought  rewarded  :  ends  by  obtaining  any  reward. 

I,  i,  64.    Cf.  iy,  i,  104. 

I,  i,  71-2.  Baligny's  appeal  to  Guise  is  only  a  bait  to  elicit  an  expression 
from  Renel  which  might  be  construed  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). 

I,  i,  96-7.  Renel,  the  decayed  lord,  has  been  forced  by  a  lawsuit  of  Mont- 
surry's  to  offer  his  last  remaining  property  for  sale.  Montsurry  wishes 
to  buy  it,  but  the  price  has  not  yet  been  agreed  on  between  them. 

I,  i,  128.  His  Guisean  greatness :  his  importance  in  the  Guisean  faction 
or,  perhaps,  his  intimacy  with  Guise. 

I,  i,  184.  That  sincerity :  that  very  impossibility  of  becoming  dishonest, 
i.e.  treasonous. 

I,  i,  140^-1.  '  The  more  black  we  paint  the  best  men,  the  more  our  state- 
craft  is  thought  to  be  acute  and  penetrating '. 

I,  i,  144.  Stage  direction.  Henry  only  passes  over  the  stage  here.  The 
quarto  does  not  mark  his  exit,  but  as  no  speech  is  given  him,  it  is  plain 
that  he  goes  off  immediately.  Monsieur's  leave-taking  is  in  dumb  show. 

I,  i,  145.  Monsieur's  connexion  with  the  Low  Countries  began  as  early  as 
1577.  In  1580  he  accepted  the  sovereignty  of  the  provinces  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,  152-8.     Compare  Romeo  and  Juliet,  I,  v,  47-8. 

I,  i,  180.  ril  part  engendering  virtue :  I'll  separate  Clermont  from  Guise, 
in  whom  he  is  begetting  his  own  virtue.  The  words,  of  course,  are  spoken 
with  a  sneer. 

I,  i,  205.     His  worst  thoughts  of  me:  cf.  Bussy  D'Ambois,  III,  ii,  462  seq. 

I,  i,  236.  A  French  crown :  a  coin  of  varying  value.  The  '  crown  of  the 
sun  '  of  Louis  XII  served  as  a  model  for  the  English  coin. 

I,  i,  241-2.  The  poverty  of  Epaminondas,  mentioned  by  Plutarch  (Pelopidas, 
iii)  was  a  commonplace  of  later  moralists.  Aelian's  anecdote  (Var.  Hist., 
V,  5)  no  doubt  suggested  Chapman's  phrase,  no  more  suits  than  backs. 

It  i,  254.  A  keel  was  a  boat  used  for  conveying  coal  from  the  North  to 
London,  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,  i,  260-1.     Cf.  The  Gentleman  Usher,  III,  ii,  108-11. 

Use  not  my  lordship   nor  yet  call  me  lord, 
Nor  my  whole  name  Vincentio,  but  Vince, 
As  they  call  Jack  or  Will ;  'tis  now  in  use 
'Twixt  men  of  no  equality. 

I,  i,  267.  A  puzzling  line.  I  suspect  some  corruption  in  the  text.  Dr. 
Bradley  suggests  that  we  might  read  '  sucks '  for  seeks.  Emrods, 
an  old  variant  of  '  hemorrhoids  ',  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. 

I,  i,  277.  Swisser :  a  hireling  soldier.  Switzerland  was  at  this  time  the 
great  recruiting  ground  for  mercenaries,  and  the  term  '  Switzer  '  is 
often  used  to  denote  a  hired  soldier,  especially  in  some  royal  guard.  Cf. 
Hamlet,  IV,  v,  97. 

L  i,  278-87.  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  hollowness  of  his  claims  for  men's  respect  is  characteristi" 

l  See  Chapman's  poem,  Pro  Vtrt,  Autwnni  Lachrymae,  1622. 


NOTES  579 

at  once  of  the  speaker  and  of  the  tone  of  this  play — as  characteristic  as 

Bussy's  outburst  of  abuse  (III,  ii,  462  seq.)  is  of  Chapman's  earlier  work. 

I,  i,  808.     Won  to  their  hands :   already  secured  to  them  by  their  ancestors. 

I,  i,  880.    Cf .  Homo  sum :  humani  nihil  a  me  alienum  puto.     Heaut.  Tim.  77. 

I,  i,  882.     It  is  not  necessary  to  suspect  an  allusion  to  As   You  Like  It  in 

this  line.    The  idea  is  as  old  as  the  Greek  Anthology,  (X,  72),  with  which 

Chapman  is  quite  as  likely  to  have  been  acquainted  as  with  Shakespeare's 

play,  first  printed  in  1623. 

I,  i,  885.  The  good  Greek  moralist:  Epictetus.  The  following  passage, 
to  1.  342,  is  an  adaptation  of  the  Discourses,  IV,  vii,  13.  As  Mr.  Boas 
has  pointed  out,  Chapman  mistook  the  sense  of  the  word,  vwoieptTT}?,  in 
this  passage  for  '  actor  '  in  the  technical  sense,  not  understanding  that 
Epictetus  used  it  here  only  for  one  who  plays  a  part  in  life.  On  this 
mistake  Chapman  builds  up  his  illustration. 

I*  i,  849.  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  E.  N.  S.  Thompson  :  The  Controversy  between 
the  Puritans  and  the  Stage,  Yale  Studies  in  English,  No.  XX,  1903. 
I,  i.  854.  The  splenative  philosopher  :  Democritus,  called  also  '  the  laughing 
philosopher '.  Seneca,  De  Ira,  II,  10,  says  :  Democritum  aiunt  nunquam 
sine  risu  in  publico  fuisse. 

I.  i,  356-74.  This  passage  may  have  been  suggested  by  Juvenal,  Satire  X, 
N-  33-53 : 

Democritus  could  feed  his  spleen,  and  shake 
His  sides  and  shoulders  till  he  felt  'em  ache  ; 
Tho'  in  his  country  town  no  Lictors  were, 
Nor  Rods,  nor  Ax,  nor  Tribune  did  appear, 
Nor  all  the  foppish  gravity  of  show 
Which  cunning  magistrates  on  crowds  bestow. 

He  laughs  at  all  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  frown'd. 

Dryden's  translation. 

The  elaboration  of  the  idea,  with  the  instances  of  the  lawyer,  the  trades 
man,  the  hypocrite,  and  the  widow,  is  Chapman's  own  work. 

I,  i,  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  separation  of  the  guilty  wife  and  the  murderous 
husband  is  looked  upon  as  eternal ;  cf.  Bussy,  V,  iv,  191-221. 

I,  ii,  9.  Prevent  that  length :  anticipate  the  length  of  time  that  must  elapse 
before  the  murder  of  Bussy  is  revenged. 

I,  ii,  18.     The  sphere  of  fire :  cf.  Bussy,  V,  iv,  148-53. 

I,  ii,  25.  Still  on  this  haunt:  still  brooding  on  this  theme.  Cf.  Byron's 
Tragedy,  III,  i,  173. 

I,  ii,  27.  Cockatrice-like.  The  cockatrice  was  thought  to  be  hatched  from 
the  eggs  of  an  old  cock  brooded  over  by  some  '  venomous  worm '.  See 
Trevisa,  Earth,  de  Prop.  Rerum,  XII,  16. 

I,  ii,  27-82.  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  1641. 
It  seems  fair  to  conclude  from  this,  that  the  later  version  was  made  before 
The  Revenge  of  Bussy  was  written,  i.e.  before  1611-2.  I  have  discussed 
this  point  fully  in  an  article  on  the  date  of  Bussy,  Modern  Language  Review, 
January,  1908. 

I,  ii,  58-61.    These  lines  occur  with  but  few  changes  in  Chapman's  poem 


580        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

A  Good  Woman  (Poems,  p.  151)  included  in  Petrarch's  Penitential  Psalms, 
etc.,  1612.  This  poem,  a  paraphrase  in  heroic  couplets  of  portions  of 
Plutarch's  Conjugalia  Praecepta,  must  have  been  written  before  The 
Revenge  of  Bussy. 

I,  ii,  65.  Conditions  of  most  large  contents :  most  liberal  conditions  of  sur 
render. 

I,  ii,  75.     Cf.  Bussy,  V,  iv,  124-31. 

I,  ii,  76.  '  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- 
observ'd.' 

I,  ii,'  80.  The  fiction.  This  fable  appears  in  Aesop  (no.  82,  Teubner  ed.), 
but  Chapman  probably  found  it  in  the  same  essay  of  Plutarch  from  which 
H«  53~6i  are  drawn,  viz.,  Conjugalia  Praecepta,  xii.  Here  we  have  not 
only  the  fable,  but  the  same  application  to  the  proper  treatment  of  wives 
by  husbands  as  in  Chapman. 

I,  ii,  106.  '  Consideration  for  her,  i.e.  for  her  desire  of  revenge,  is  the  chief 
cause  of  this  design.' 

I,  ii,  108.     His  guard  :  the  guard  Montsurry  has  set  at  his  door  ;  cf.  I,  i,  94-5. 

It  ii,  124-5*  Renr1,  for  some  reason  which  Chapman  has  not  troubled  to 
explain, fpretends  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  (Renel's)  device. 

I,  ii,  130.     Cf.  Othello,  IV,  ii,  27-30  ;   and  The  Gentleman  Usher,  III,  ii,  388-9. 

II,  i,  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  held  a  wrong,  even  though 
it  seems  a  wrong  to  all  human  reason,  law,  and  conscience '. 

II,  i,  66.     'Tis  well  conceited  :   that  is  a  good  conception,  or  idea. 

II,  i,  88.     For  his  valour's  season  :   to  modify,  or  temper,  his  valour. 

II,  i,  104.  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'. 

II,  i,  105-6.  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,  9-52).  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 — Trojani  tempore  belli 
Panthoides  Euphorbus  eram. 

Metamorphoses,  XVI,  160-1. 

II,  i,  108-22.  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  role  almost  at  once  and  becomes 
a  mere  mouthpiece  of  the  poet  himself. 

II,  i,  114.  The  grave  Greek  tragedian :  Sophocles.  The  reference  is  to  the 
Antigone,  11.  446-57.  Antigone,  who  has  just  been  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  unfailing  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 '. 

J  ebb's  translation. 

II,  i,  134.  '  Both  king  and  subject  in  such  cases  are  exempt  from  criticism 
and  objection.' 

II,  i,  135-6.  Chapman  himself  calls  attention  in  his  marginal  note  to  the 
source  of  this  dictum,  i.e.  Sophocles,  Antigone,  11.  175-7. 


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. 

n,  i,  140.  '  The  overflowing  contents  of  great  vessels  cannot  be  contained 
by  smaller  ones.' 

n,  i,  156-62.  The  marginal  reference  shows  that  this  passage  was  suggested 
to  Chapman  by  Epictetus,  Discourses,  IV,  i,  25  :  *  Men  keep  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  mollius  degunt, 
eo  servilius)?  ' 

Long's  translation. 

II,  i,  165-7.  Dpmitian's  practice  of  catching  flies  is  mentioned  by  Suetonius, 
Domitian,  iii. 

II*  i,  176-81.  This  seems  to  be  Chapman's  alteration  of  a ,  fable  of  Aesop 
(no.  184,  Teubner  edition).  There  it  is  related  how  the  camel  begged  horns 
from  Jove,  who,  angered  at  his  request,  took  away  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,  138-9,  may 
quite  well  be  to  the  original  form.  The  marginal  note,  simil.,  opposite 
1.  181  is  meant  to  call  attention  to  the  simile,  not,  as  Mr.  Boas  thinks,  to 
indicate  that  the  passage  is  drawn  from  the  same  source — the  Discourses 
of  Epictetus — as  that  to  which  the  previous  marginal  note  refers.  For 
a  like  use  of  such  a  marginal  note,  simil.,  see  A  Hymn  to  Hymen,  appended 
to  Chapman's  Masque  of  the  Middle  Temple  and  Lincoln's  Inn  (Pearson's 
reprint,  vol.  Ill,  p.  120). 

II,  i,  184.  The  foolish  poet :  Suffenus.  The  whole  passage,  11.  184-92,  is 
an  adaptation  of  Catullus,  xxii :  '  That  Suffenus,  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 ; 
all  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. 

II,  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.,  VIII,  80. 

II,  i,  204.  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  of  the  Massacre  here  put  into  the 
mouth  of  Clermont,  and  sees  in  it,  along  with  other  passages — 
Strozza's  apology  for  pilgrimages  and  votive  offerings  in  The  Gentleman 
Usher,  V,  ii,  31-44,  and  Byron's  eulogy  of  Philip  II  in  The  Tragedy  of 
Byron,  IV,  ii,  116-55 — signs  of  a  gradual  approach  on  Chapman's  part 
to  the  Roman  Church.  It  is  certain  that  Chapman  never  entertained 
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  of  a  Catholic  of  the  Reaction. 

II,  i,  211-32.  As  Mr.  Boas  has  pointed  out,  this  passage  is  '  freely  adapted 
and  transposed  '  from  Epictetus,  the  philosopher  of  1.  231  (Discourses, 
I.xxviii,  1 1-20)  :  cf.  especially  I,  xxviii,  13—'  If,  then,  it  had  happened  to 


582        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

Menelaus  to  f eel  that  it  was  a  gain  to  be  deprived  of  such  a  wife  [as  Helen], 
what  would  have  happened  ?  Not  only  would  the  Iliad  have  been  lost, 
but  the  Odyssey  also  ', — with  11.  229-32. 

H,  i,  24678.  This  reference  to  Clermont's  horse  is  borrowed,  as  Koeppel 
(loc.  cit.  p.  44)  has  shown  from  Matthieu's  account  of  the  arrest  of  the 
Count  D'Auvergne,  which  Chapman  found  in  Grimeston. 

II,  i,  266-70.    These  lines  are  taken  directly  from  the  speech  put  by  Ovid 
into  the  mouth  of  Pythagoras — 

juvat  terris  et  inerti  sede  relictis, 
Nube  vehi,  validique  humeris  insistere  Atlantis : 
Pallantesque  animos  passim  ac  rationis  egentes 
Despectare  procul,  trepidosque,  obitumque  timentes. 

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  fly, 
And  on  stout  Atlas1  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. 

III,  i,  5-6.     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  man's  conquest  or  discovery. 

Ill,  i,  42-5.  Aumale,  who  is  a  bit  of  a  philosopher,  sees  a  just  cause,  merit, 
for  Clermont's  fall  in  his  brother's  sin,  which  has  infected  the  whole  family. 

Ill,  i,  57-8.    Hold  colours :  offer  a  pretext. 

Ill,  i,  69-74.  This  device,  like  most  of  the  details  of  Clermont's  arrest,  is 
taken  from  Grimeston. 

Ill,  i,  82-6.  '  Who  does  not  know  how  Statecraft  stuffs  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.' 

Ill,  i,  87.     '  Such  a  thing  might  happen  once,  but  not  continually.' 

Ill,  i,  92-3.  '  This  [Clermont's  support  of  Guise's  ambition]  must  outweigh 
shadows,  and  is,  in  fact,  a  capital  crime.' 

Ill,  ii,  1.  This  refers  to  the  shows  of  the  stage  direction.  These  were  pageants, 
or  masques,  to  greet  Renel. 

Ill,  ii,  12-16.  The  Locrian  princes  :  Locri,  a  Grecian  colony  in  Southern  Italy, 
was  famous  for  its  good  laws  and  dislike  of  alterations  (Demosthenes, 
adv.  Timocrat.  139-41).  This  account  of  the  punishment  inflicted  there 
on  newsmongers  comes  from  Plutarch,  De  Curipsitate,  viii. 

Ill,  ii,  17-21.  There  is  a  close  parallel  to  this  simile  in  Chapman's  Andromeda 
Liberata,  1614  (Poems,  p.  183). 

Ill,  ii,  32.      That,  i.e.  to  esteem  honour   as  the  price  and  value  of  service. 

Ill,  ii,  89.     In  any  rate  of  goodness :    in  any  estimation  of  virtue. 

Ill,  ii,  41.  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.  Laert.  De  Clar.  Philosoph.,  V, 

III,  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  Praecept.  Gerend.  Reipub.  xxvii,  Plutarch  couples  the  names 
of  Demetrius  Phalereus  and  Demades  and  tells  how  the  statues  of  the 
latter  were  melted  into  '  matulae.'  This  is,  of  course,  the  source  of  Chap 
man's  lines. 


NOTES  5&3 

HI,  ii,  61-84.  Chapman  based  this  scene  of  the  anonymous  letter  upon  a  state 
ment  in  Grimeston,  that  D'Auvergne  had  intelligence  that  there  was  a 
plot  to  seize  him. 

Ill,  ii,  91.     '  In  postponing  the  revenge  due  to  my  brother.' 

HI,  ii,  107.  No  time  occurs  to  kings  :  time  is  not  a  matter  that  kings  need 
consider,  or,  perhaps,  taking  occurs  in  the  legal  sense,  time  does  not 
run  for  kings. 

IH,  ii,  114.  '  To  endure  all  ill  which  cannot  be  avenged  by  good  deeds,'  i.e. 
where  revenge  would  necessitate  a  crime. 

in,  ii,  121-2.  '  Montsurry's  refusal  of  the  challenge  justly  exposes  him  to 
every  advantage  you  can  take  of  him.' 

Ill,  ii,  129-37.  This  description  of  Madame  Perigot  may  have  suggested 
to  Fletcher  a  character,  Leucippe,  and  a  broadly  comic  scene,  II,  iii, 
in  his  Humourous  Lieutenant,  1619. 

Ill,  ii,  152.  Arden.  There  is  more  likely  to  be  a  direct  reference  to  the 
Ardennes  here  than  in  Bussy  II,  i,  94  ;  see  note  ad  loc. 

Ill,  ii,  154-5.  '  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  certainly 
accomplished  in  the  future  as  it  is  unfulfilled  at  present,  even  if  this  report 
be  true.' 

Ill,  ii,  188.  Strip  off  my  shame  with  my  attire :  cf .  the  parallel  in  A  Good 
Woman  (Poems,  p.  151).  This  expression,  quoted  by  the  Wife  of  Bath's 
fifth  husband,  is  as  old  at  least  as  Herodotus.  See  Herod.  I,  8. 

HI,  ii,  170.  This  letter's  truth :  the  actual  fact  referred  to  in  this  letter  as 
likely  to  happen. 

Ill,  ii,  179.     '  If  the  report  be  as  true  as  it  is  extraordinary.' 

Ill,  ii,  206-231.  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  his  commandments.' 

Ill,  ii,  223-5.  Another  hint  from  Grimeston  :  '  D'Eurre  [one  of  the  con 
spirators  against  D'Auvergne]  thanked  him  for  the  paine  it  had  pleased 
him  to  take  to  see  his  companions,  beseeching  him  to  thinke,  that  he 
desired  it  with  great  affection,  to  the  end  the  King  might  know  they  were 
not  in  so  bad  estate  as  at  the  voyage  of  Metz.' 

Ill,  ii,  247-53.  Cassandra,  daughter  of  Priam,  was  wooed  by  Apollo.  She 
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.  Mneid,t 
II,  247  : 

Tune  etiam  fatis  aperit  Cassandra  futuris 
Ora  dei  jussu  non  unquam  credita  Teucris. 

'  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. 

Ill,  iii,  24.  A  variant  of  the  proverb,  '  Ne  Hercules  quidem  adversus  duos.' 
Guise  uses  it  later  on,  V,  iv,  34-5,  and  it  appears  in  the  Latin  form  in 
Alphonsus  Emperor  of  Germany,  II,  iii,  86. 

Ill,  iv,  14-25.  These  lines  had  already  appeared  among  the  poems  added  to 
Chapman's  Petrarch's  Seven  Penitential  Psalms,  etc.  (ed.  1612,  p.  92),  under 
the  heading,  Of  Great  Men.  For  some  reason  they  have  been  omitted  by 
Shepherd  in  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,  121. 

Ill,  iv,  20.  For  disposing  these  :  '  for  regulating  these  gifts  of  fame,  strength, 
noble  birth,  and  beauty.  These  is  used  loosely  to  qualify  the  nouns 
implied  by  the  adjectives  in  1.  19.' — Boas,  Bussy,  p.  301. 


584        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

III,  iv,  29-31.     '  Ignorant  populi,   si  non  in  morte  probaris, 
An  scieris  adversa  pati. 

—Pharsalia,  VIII,  626-7. 

Ill,  iv,  40.     '  That  our  nature  shrank  from  accepting  it.' 

Ill,  iv,  56-7.  '  You  cannot  pursue  the  outward  care  of  things,  i.e.  the  care 
of  externals,  without  neglecting  the  things  of  the  mind.' 

Ill,  iv,  58-75.     As  Boas  has  pointed  out,  these  lines  are  an  elaboration  of  a 

i  passage  in  Epictetus,  Discourses,  IV,  vii,  6-n.  They  had  already  appeared 
as  part  of  a  poem  headed,  Please  with  thy  Place,  appended  by  Chapman 
to  his  translation  of  Petrarch's  Penitential  Psalms  (p.  68,  edition  of  1612, 
not  reprinted  in  Poems). 

Ill,  iv,  95.  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. 

Ill,  iv,  96.  Duke  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  1576,  was  offered  the  opportunity 
to  review  his  army. 

Ill,  iv,  105-6.  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. 

Ill,  iv,  112.  A  Sir  John  Smith :  probably  Sir  John  Smith  of  Little  Badow, 
1534-1607.  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. 

Ill,  iv,  114-5.  '  Desiring  such  slavish  attentions  as  if  the  final  cause  of  nobility 
consisted  in  them.' 

Ill,  iv,  127.  Says  one:  Epictetus.  The  whole  passage,  11.  127-41,  is  a 
close  translation  of  the  Discourses,  IV,  x,  20-22. 

Ill,  iv,  133.  Twelve  rods  :  the  twelve  fasces,  bundles  of  rods  bound  up  around 
an  axe,  were  the  mark  of  the  consul's  office  and  authority. 

HI,  iv,  134.     Sit  for  the  whole  tribunal :   the  original  Greek,  en-l  p^a  *a0iV<u, 
means  simply  to  sit  upon  the  bench  as  judge.     Chapman  seems  to  have 
been  misled  by  a  Latin  translation,  pro  tribunali  sedere. 
Ill,  iv,  138-9.     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  constantia,  pro  eo  ut  dormiens  dormias,  vigilans,  vigiles,  etc. 

III,  iv,  152.    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. 

IV,  i,  11-39.     This  account  of  Clermont's  desperate  struggle  is,  as  Mr.  Boas 
points  out,  invented  by  Chapman.     D'Auvergne,  to  the  surprise  of  his 
captors,  suffered  himself  to  be  seized  without  resistance. 

IV,  i,  16.    Bore  himself :  stood  up,  equivalent  to  the  Latin  se  sustinere. 

IV,  i,  77.    Clermont  repeats  here  Maillard's  own  words  in  III,  ii,  239. 

IV,  i,  81-4.  This  is  another  of  the  many  details  borrowed  from  the  seizure  of 
D'Auvergne  (Grimeston,  p.  1048) : '  He  was  moved  to  see  himself  so  entreated 
by  lackies,  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,  i,  99.    Organ  of  his  danger : '  instrument  of  his  dangerous  designs  '. — Boas. 


NOTES  585 

IV,  i,  109.  The  trumpet's :  the  trumpeter's  horse.  D'Auvergne  after  his 
capture  was  mounted  on  the  trumpeter's  horse  and  conducted  to  a  neigh 
bouring  town. 

IV,  i,  116.  The  Countess  of  Cambrai  takes  the  place  in  this  play  of  a  lady 
whose  name  is  not  mentioned  in  Grimeston,  but  who,  he  says,  loved  and 
was  loved  by  D'Auvergne.  Clermont's  speech,  11.  120-24,  is  based  upon 
one  of  D'Auvergne's  in  Grimeston. 

IV,  i,  187-57.  These  lines  form,  with  a  few  verbal  differences,  the  last  half 
of  the  poem,  Please  with  thy  Place,  already  referred  to  ;  see  note  on  III,  iv, 
58  seq. 

IV,  ii,  18-4.     Cf.  Byron's  Conspiracy,  III,  ii,  246  : 

Flatterers  look  like  friends,  as  wolves  like  dogs. 

IV,  ii,  80.  This  line,  I  think,  refers  to  the  projects  mooted  in  the  Guisean 
party  for  deposing  Henry  III.  Baligny  is,  of  course,  playing  in  this 
scene  the  role  of  a  partisan  of  Guise,  and  feigning  an  indignation  which 
he  does  not  feel. 

IV,  ii,  87.  The  Sidle  gulf :  Charybdis,  the  famous  whirlpool  in  the  Sicilian 
Straits. 

IV,  iii,  87.  Guiltlessly  :  without  guilt  on  his  part.  Cf.  Udall,  Eras.  Par.  I 
Pet.  1-2  :  Whom  the  raging  cruelty  .  .  .  hath  guiltlessly  driven  out,  etc. 

IV,  iii,  45.  '  The  lawless  precedents  set  by  kings  are  full  of  danger  to  the 
State.' 

IV,  iii,  69.    Him  .  .  .  he :  the  King  .  .  .  Clermont. 

IV,  iii,  70-6.  These  lines  are  taken  almost  verbally  from  Grimeston  (p. 
1048)  :  '  If  I  knew  (said  she),  that  I  might  save  him  in  forcing  through 
your  troop,  I  would  willingly  do  it,  and  if  I  had  but  ten  men  of  my  courage 
and  resolution,  you  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.' 

IV,  iii,  78-9.     '  He  would  have  purchased  his  freedom  with  their  blood.' 

IV,  iii,  88.    Cf.  Iliad  IX,  312-13: 

Like  Hell-mouth  I  loathe 
Who  holds  not  in  his  words  and  thoughts  one  undistinguished  troth. 

Chapman's  Iliad. 

IV,  Ui,  87.    Ancilla:  i.e.  Riova,  the  Countess's  maid. 

IV,  iii,  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,  5.     '  The  only  pretext  being  Clermont's  intimacy  with  me.' 
IV,  iv,  28.     Would  present  most  hard :  would  make  it  most  difficult. 
IV,  iv,  4SHE.     '  He  is  so  perfect  a  Stoic  after  the  model  of  Seneca  that  he  may 

be  compared  to  the  immortal  gods.' 
IV,  iv,  50-1.    Cf.  Homer  VIII,  266-72: 

He  [Teucer]  still  fought  under  Ajax1  shield  who  sometimes  held  it  fry, 

And  then  he  look'd  his  object  out,  and  let  his  arrow  fly, 

And  whomsoever  in  the  press  he  wounded,  him  he  slew, 

Then  under  Ajax'  sevenfold  shield  he  presently  withdrew. 

He  fared  like  an  unhappy  child  that  doth  to  mother  run 

For  succour,  when  he  knows  full  well  he  some  shrewd  turn  hath  done. 

Chapman's  Iliad. 

IV,  iv,  51-8.    The  story  of  Cacus,  the  monstrous  son  of  Vulcan,  who  lived 
in  a  cave  on  Mt.  Aventine,  is  told  by  Virgil,  Mneid,  VIII,  190,  seq. ;  Ovid, 
Fasti,  I,  542  ssq. ;  and  Livy,  I,  7.     1  cannot  find  any  reference,  however, 
to  Cacus  cutting  his  thieveries  to  his  den's   length.     Possibly  Chapman 
was  thinking  for  the  moment  of  Procrustes. 

V,  iv,  57-8.     '  It  were  better  for  a  man  to  be  buried  alive  than  to  live  a  mere 

fool  of  state,  and  rum  others  in  order  to  thrive  himself.'  Baligny's  moral 
reflection  is  apparently  caused  by  the  collapse  of  his  plot  against  Clermont. 
IV,  v,  22-5.  These  four  lines  occur  also  in  a  poem  added  to  Petrarch's  Psalms 
(1612),  headed  Of  Plenty  and  Freedom  in  Goodness.  It  is  not  included 
in  the  Poems. 


586        THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 

IV,  v,  34.     '  Spend  their  time  and  thought  upon  those  verses.' 

IV,  v,  37.     Upright  gasping  :  a  curious  phrase.    Perhaps  we  should  interpret 

it  as  equivalent  to  'complete  incapacity'. 
IV,  v,  63.     '  To  ransom  you.' 

IV,  v,  70.     '  My  wrong  mounted  higher  than  any  man  could  expect.' 
IV,  v,  84-5.     Cf.  I,  i,  83-5. 
IV,  v,  93.     With  return  of  this  :  i.e.  the  casket  of  jewels,  which  Clermont  sends 

back  to  the  Countess  by  Aumale. 

IV,  v,  98-102.     Monsieur  died  in  1584.     There  is  no  prophecy  of  the  death 
of  Monsieur  and  Guise  in  Bussy  D'Ambois  unless,  as  Mr.  Boas  suggests, 
we  may  so  interpret  V,  iv,  76-8.     I  should  doubt  such  an  interpretation, 
and  fancy  that  Bussy's  prediction  was  simply  invented  for  this  passage. 

V,  i,  1-32.     This  speech  is  modelled  upon  such  Senecan  prologues  as  those 
of  Thyestes  and  Agamemnon.     The  first  line  echoes  a  phrase  from  the 
Senecan  Medea,  I,  9 :  Noctis  aeternae  chaos. 

V,  i,  8.  Chained  shot.  See  note  on  Bussy,  V,  i,  98.  Cf.  also  The  Duchess 
of  Malfi,  IV,  ii,  326-7  : 

your  vengeance, 
Like  two  chained  bullets  still  goes  arm  in  arm. 

V,  i,  18-21.  There  is  a  parallel  to  this  expression  of  Chapman's  dislike  of 
the  religious  differences  then  distracting  Christendom  in  Caesar  and 
Pompey,  II,  i.  38-41. 

V,  i,  37-9.  '  At  the  Barricades  [i.e.  on  the  day  of  the  Barricades,  May  10, 
1588]  this  voice  was  heard  :  '  It  is  no  longer  time  to  dally,  let  us  lead 
my  lord  [i.e.  Guise]  to  Rheims.'  Grimeston,  p.  722. 

V,  i,  53.  The  cause  alike  :  the  same  cause,  i.e.  the  abnormal  activity  of  the 
imagining  power,  1.  43. 

V,  i,  55-61.  '  Advertisements  were  come  to  him  [Guise]  from  all  parts  both 
within  and  without  the  realm,  from  Rome,  Spain,  Lorraine,  and  Savoy, 
that  a  bloody  catastrophe  would  dissolve  the  assembly  '  [i.e.  of  the  States- 
General  at  Blois].  Grimeston,  p.  723. 

V,  i,  63-8.  '  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,  102.     Cf.  1.  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  (1.  no),  and  the  whole  phrase  may  be  inter 
preted  :  '  Since  you  supply  a  brother's  love  to  me '. 

V,  i,  121-7.  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 
because  of  the  vain  and  transitory  favour  of  a  king.' 

V,  i,  134-5.     Repeated  with  slight  change  from  IV,  ii,  17-8. 

V,  i,  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,  18-20.  '  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,  38-9.  An  allusion  to  the  story  of  Typhon.  See  note  on  Bussy,  III, 
ii,  145-7. 

V,  iii,  55.     Cf.  Byron's  Tragedy,  IV,  ii,  89. 

V,  iv,  3-6.  '  The  eve  before  his  death  the  Duke  himself  sitting  down  to  dinner 
found  a  scroll  under  his  napkin,  advertising  him  of  this  secret  ambush. 
Grimeston,  p.  723.  Also  on  the  morning  of  his  death  the  Duke  sent 


NOTES  587 

back  to  his  rooms  for  a  handkerchief,  and  '  Pericart,  his  secretary  .  . 

ties  a  note  to  one  of  the  corners  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. 
V,  iv,  11.     My  slave :  my  body  with  its  fears. 
V,  iv,  27.     He  will  not  dare :    on  the  warning  scroll  mentioned  above  Guise 

wrote  with  his  own  hand :  '  They  dare  not ',  and  threw  it  under  the  table. 

Grimeston,  p.  723. 
V,  iv,  84-5.     '  Does  the  proverb  say  "  Not  even  Hercules  can  match  two 

foes  "  ?     [See  note  on  III,   iii,   24,   above.]     Guise  will  encounter  two 

with  Hercules  to  aid  them.' 
V,  iv,  81-8.     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. 
V,  iv,  70.     Aumale's  entrance  is  not  specifically  indicated  in  the  text.     He 

is  one  of  the  others  in  the  stage  direction  after  1.  37. 
V,  v,  88-4.     Cf.  Bussy,  V,  iv,  114-8 
V,  V,  41-2.     '  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. 
V,  V,  86.     At  all:   an  exclamation  in  gambling  at  dice,  used  when  a  player 

threw  for  all  the  stakes  on  the  table.     See  All  Fools,  V,  ii,  86. 
V,  v,  87.     Stick  in  his  hands  thus  :   cannot  Clermont  finish  Montsurry  ?     Cf. 

a  variant  of  the  same  phrase,  1.  95,  below. 
V,  V,  118-9.    Cf.  Ovid: 

Ossa  quieta,  precor,  tuta  requiescite  in  urna, 
Et  sit  humus  cineri  non  onerosa  tuo. 

Atnores,  III,  ix,  67-8. 

V,  V,  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  diyertissment  to  what  must  have  seemed  to  most 
of  the  audience  an  appallingly  heavy  play.  The  entrance  and  dance  of 
the  ghosts  certainly  serves  no  dramatic  purpose. 

V,  V,  128.  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. 

V,  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,  '  prowl  about  tombs  and  sepulchres, 
near  which  .  .  .  are  seen  certain  ghostly  apparitions '.  Cf .  also  Comus, 
463  ssq. 

V,  v,  208.  Tamyra  apparently  thinks  of  her  own  head  as  crowned  with 
snakes  like  that  of  a  Fury,  or  spirit  of  revenge. 

V,  v,  218-7.  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  in  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  Studien,  vol.  39,  p.  70  seq. 
In  the  Q.  the  play  is  divided  into  acts,  but  not  into  scenes. 


I,  i,  11.  Q.  cities.  This  might  repre 
sent  the  modern  form  city's,  but 
I  have  preferred  to  take  it  as 
plural. 

55.  Q.  hearing.  Strict  syntax 
would  seem  to  demand  hear,  but 
Chapman's  syntax  is  far  from 
strict. 

70.  Q.  true.  I  have  ventured  the 
slight  change  to  truth,  which 
seems  to  me  necessary  to  make 
sense. 

74.  Q.  my  self.  An  evident  mis 
print  for  yourself,  probably 
due  to  the  following  my  lord. 

144.  The  stage  direction  after  this 
line  is  placed  in  Q.  in  the  right- 
hand  margin  after  1.  145.  The 
name  Soissons  is  misprinted 
Foisson  in  Q. 

167.  Q.  as  twere  not  all.  S.  inserts 
at  before  all,  a  necessary 
emendation. 

218.  Q.  ingenuous  :  see  note  on 
Bussy,  III,  ii,  107. 

257.  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. 

265-7.  Well,  sir,  'twere,  etc.  S. 
carelessly  omits  the  name  of  the 
speaker,  Clermont,  before  this 
speech. 

268-9.  Q.  omite  the  name  of  the 
speaker,  Mons.,  before  this 
speech.  One  of  the  B.M.  copies 
(C.  34,  c.  6)  shows  this  correc 
tion  in  an  old  hand,  and  Bo.  has 
rightly  introduced  it  into  the 
text. 

278784.  Q.  prints  this  passage  as 
nine  short  lines,  ending  King, 
see,  selfe,  better,  Right,  True,  too, 
upon  you  and  deedes.  This  is  a 
mere  matter  of  typography ;  the 
metre  requires  the  arrangement 
in  the  text. 

285.  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 
first-foot,  common  in  Chapman. 


335.  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. 

361.  Selling  of  his  wares  :  Q.  en 
closes  these  words  in  a  paren 
thesis.  If  this  be  taken  to  indi 
cate  the  construction,  thriftily 
modifies  swearing.  Possibly  this 
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  selling. 

379.  Q.  friend.  S.  emends  brother, 
a  correction  required  by  both 
metre  and  context.  The  allu 
sion  is  to  Clermont's  brother, 
Bussy.  The  Q.  friendis  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. 

24.  In  the  stage  direction  after 
this  line  Bo.  notes  that  Q.  has 
Monsieur.  The  Bod.  copy, 
however,  has  Montsur.,  i.e.  Mont- 
surry.  In  11.  25,  62,  131,  136, 
and  in  stage  direction,  1.  138, 
it  has  Mont.,  elsewhere  Mons., 
evidently  a  misprint. 

28.  Bo.  notes  that  Q.  has  dye.  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. 

115-6.  Q.  prints  as  three  lines 
ending  Lordship,  here,  I. 

123.  Q.  Ye'are.  I  do  not  think 
this  means  to  indicate  a  dis 
syllabic  pronunciation,  and 
have  followed  S.  in  printing 
Y'are. 

134-6.  Q.  prints  as  four  lines  end 
ing,  this  challenge,  then,  murther 
murther,  off. 


NOTES 


589 


II,  i,   50.     S.  omits  at  in  order   to 
regularize  the  metre. 

255.  After  journey  Bo.  puts  a 
question  mark.  This  is  not 
needed. 

277.  Q.  Exit.    A  common  error  in 

old  texts  for  Exeunt. 
HI,  i,  48.  /  swear .  This  is  set  off  in 
Q.  by  commas,  and  S.  and  Bo. 
follow.  But  this  punctuation 
is  evidently  wrong/as  to  touch, 
1.  49,  depends  upon  sweare. 

58-9.  In  Q.  the  stage  directions 
which  follow  these  lines  are 
placed  in  the  margin  after  the 
words  come  and  foote  respectively. 
Q.  prints,  1.  59  as  two  lines 
ending  come  and  foote. 

103.  For  Exeunt  after  this  line 
Q.  has  Exit. 

III,  ii,    12.  Q.  Rubers.    S.    emends 
rulers. 

48.  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. 
97-9.  Q.  prints  as  seven  short  lines 
ending    equall  ?     be,     villaines  ? 
reason  ?    evermore,    Reason,    is. 
The  passage  may  be  variously 
arranged,     but    will    not    give 
normal  lines  in  any  arrangement. 
146.  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. 
152.  Q.  misprints  Acden. 
159-60.  Q.  misprints  Cler.  as  the 
speaker  of  these  lines.     S.  cor 
rects  to  Ch.,  i.e.  Charlotte. 
175.  Q.  Exit  for  Exeunt. 
188.  Ranged  in  battalia.    The  B.M. 
copies  omit  ranged,  as  does  Bo., 
who  printed  from  them.     But  it 
appears  in  the  Bod.  copy,  and 
is  necessary  to  the  metre. 
258.  The  Q.  lacks  a  stage  direction 

after  this  line. 

HI,  iv,  57.  Q.  things  outward  care. 
Mr.  Brereton  suggests  things  out 
[i.e.  external]  worth  care. 
59.  Q.  men  then  that  are.  In  the 
original  from  which  this  line  is 
taken  (see  notes,  p.  584)  the  read 
ing  is  that  be.  I  have  restored 
this,  and  with  it  the  apparently 
intended  rhyme. 

71.  Q.    f  invert.          P.  misprints 
?  invert. 


114.  Q.  as  the  end  .  .  .  were.  Bo. 
emends  as't,  etc.  This  does  not 
seem  necessary. 

135.  Q.  Circean,  a  misprint,  or 
perhaps  a  mere  variant  of 
Circene. 

152.  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. 

165.  In  the  stage  direction  after 
this  line  Q.  has  Pediss,  i.e. 
Pedisequis  ;  the  ss  denoting  the 
plural. 

IV,  i,  6.  After  t his  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  and 
addressed  by  Chalon.  But  it 
seems  impossible  that  these 
soldiers,  who  had  been  informed 
in  III,  iii,  of  all  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  i  and  2,  the  numbers 
prefixed  to  the  speeches  in  these 
lines  in  Q.,  as  indicating  two  fresh 
soldiers  who  enter  with  Chalon. 
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.  7  made  you  sport  yet,  but 
I  pray,  etc.  Bo.  punctuates 
sport.  Yet,  but  I  pray,  etc.  This 
seems  to  me  an  unnecessary 
change. 

64.  Q.  We*  are.    Cf.  note  on  I,  ii, 

65.  Q.     sworne,     married    to     the 
publique  good.     S.  rightly  substi 
tutes  a  dash  for  the  full  stop  at 
the  end  of  this  line.     Bo.  reads 
sworne  -  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  sworne    or  married,  metri- 

^.a  better    reading.    The 


590 


THE  REVENGE  OF  BUSSY  D'AMBOIS 


other  B.M.  Q.  (C.  34,  c.  16)  sup 
ports  Bo.'s  reading. 
79.  Q.  thy.     P.'s  thine  appears  to 
be  an  error. 

104.  Cf  I,  i,  64 ;  acts  may  be  a  mis 
print  for  arts. 

IV,  iii,  5.  This  line  shows  a  variation 
in  the  Qq.  The  Bod.  and  C.  12 
g.  6  have  some  brack's  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.  1 6  spoils  the  passage  by 
punctuating  should  expresse,  etc. 

44-5.    Q.  let  them  feare, 

Kings  Presidents,  etc. 
Bo.  deletes  the  comma  after 
feare.  It  seems  to  me  that  this 
confuses  the  passage.  I  have 
altered  the  comma  to  a  full  stop, 
to  which  it  is  often  equivalent. 
IV,  iv,  1.  Q.  you're,  an  evident  mis 
print,  corrected  by  S.,  tor  your. 

18.  Q.  the  lest  [i.e.  least]  persuasion. 
S.  wrongly  alters  to  best. 

51.  Q.  Caucusses ;  Bo.  emends 
Cacusses. 

IV,  v,    11.  Q.    well.    The    context, 
especially  1.  12,  seems  to  show 
that  will  is  required. 

68.  Q.  usurp e.  S.  needlessly  alters 
to  usurp'd. 

105.  Q.  Leade  to'th  Court.     S.  and 
Bo.    Leade    to    the    Court.     The 
expansion  is  not  necessary,   as 
we  may  scan  with  the  synco 
pated  first  foot. 

V,  i,  39.  Q.  lets    lead  (my    lord)    to 

Reimes — an  interesting  example 
of  the  improper  use  of  the  paren 


thesis.  The  source  of  this  line 
(see  note,  p.  586)  shows  that  lord 
is  the  object  of  lead. 
V,  i,  53.  Q.  of  like  fictions.  Bo.  has 
emended  to  oft.  This  seems  to 
me  necessary. 

58.  Q.  Soccaine.  Bo.  corrects 
Lorraine. 

176.  Q.  Or.     S.  emends  On,  which 

the  context  seems  to  require. 
V,   iii,   2.  Q.   lov'd.         S.   expands, 
metris  causa,  to  loved. 

4.  Q.  her  vertuous  service.  S. 
rightly  deletes  vertuous  as  a  mis 
take  caused  by  the  presence  of 
vertuous  in  1.  3. 

47-8.  Q.    prints    as    three    lines 

ending  Bussy,  embrace,  which. 
V,  iv,  46.  Q.   is  a  rocke.      P.  mis 
prints  as  for  is,  and  is  followed 
by  S. 

V,  v,  5.  Q.  opes.  B.  alters  to  opens, 
but  here  as  elsewhere  the  line 
shows  the  syncopated  first  foot, 
and  requires  no  change. 

44.  Q.  braves.  Bo.  emends  bravos. 
I  venture  to  print  braver's,  a 
word  found  in  Nash,  Greene's 
Menaphon  ( Arber's  edition,p.  16). 

68  and  111.  Before  these  lines 
Q.  repeats  Mont,  as  the  speaker's 
name. 

73-4.  Q.  prints  as  three  lines  end 
ing  conquest,  it  and  fortune. 

144.  Q.    accurst.  S.    corrects 

accursed. 

201.  Q.  closes  the  line  with  brother. 
Bo.  completes  it  by  adding  none. 

210-3.  Q.  assigns  this  speech  to 
Cler.  S.  correctly  gives  it  to 
Charlotte. 


THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF 
BYRON 

INTRODUCTION 

CHAPMAN'S  double  tragedy,  The  Conspiracy  and  Tragedy  of  Charles 
Duke  of  Byron,  is  the  second  in  date  of  his  tragedies  that  have  (^>me 
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  Jjime^ieoS,  and  published  in  the  same  year,  with  the  following  title- 
pageT  Tne^Cofrspiracie  And  Tragedie  of  Charles  Duke  of  Byron,  Marshall 
of  France.  A ctejHatehuiLtwp  playes^at. the :  Black-Friers.  Written  by 
George  Chapman,  Printed  by  G.  Eld  for  Thomas  Thorpp(f,  and  are  to  be 
sold  at  the  Tygers  head  in  Paules  Churchyard,  1608. x  Its  depend 
ence  upon  Grimeston's  General  Inventorie  of  the  History  of  France,2  a 
relation  discussed  below,  p.  594,  proves  that  Chapman  cannot  have 
begun  the  composition  of  his  drama  before  the  appearance  of  GVimeston's 
work  in  jfiqff  It  is,  therefore,  evident  that  we  must  date  The  Con 
spiracy  and  Tragedy  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  early  Spring  of  1608.  This  is  the 
letter  of  the  French  Ambassador,  La  Boderie,  preserved  in  the  Biblio- 
theque  Nationale  (MS.  FR.  15984,  p.  240,  seq.),  first  printed  in  a 
German  translation  by  F.  von.  Raumer  (Briefe  aus  Paris  zur  Erlaii- 
tetung  der  Geschichte,  etc.,  Leipzig,  1831)  under  the  date  of  April  5, 
i6o8,3  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  it  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  Mademoiselle  de  Verneuil.  The 
former,  having  accosted  the  latter  with  very  hard  words,  gave  her  a 
box  on  the  ear.  At  my  suit  three  of  them  [i.e.  the  players]  were 
arrested,  but  the  principal  person,  the  author,  escaped  '. 

1  The  title-page  of  Q2,  published  1625,  inserts  the  p&rase  '  and 
other  publique  stages'  after  Black-Friers.  It  was  printed  by  N.  O.  for 
Thomas  Thorpe. 

1  First  pointed  out  by  Professor  Boas,  Athenceum,  Jan.   10,   1903. 

»  The  date  in  the  MS.  appears  to  be  April  8. 

591 


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  and  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  Verneuil  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  offence 
to  the  French  Ambassador  was  struck  out  by  the  censor,  probably 
Sir  George  Buck,  Deputy  Master  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,1  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  thejirst  and 
the  beginning  of  the  second  act  of  The  Tragedy  were  also  expunged 
by  the  "censor,  including  apparently  the  notorious-quarrel -scene.  In 
all  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  missing  scenes  were  apparently  the  most 
effective  from  a  dramatic  point  of  view  in  the  whole  work.  One  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  husband's  mistress  from  the  stage  with  bitter  words 
and  blows,  or  Elizabeth  pointing  out  to  the  haughty  Marshal  the 
blackening  heads  of  Essex  and  his  fellow-traitors.2 

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  English  audience  in  1608  than  either  the 
historical  Bussy  D' Amboise  or  his  imaginary  brother,  Clermont.  Some 
of  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  neglected  warning,  and  of  his 
tragic  death  within  the  year.  Charles  de  Gontaut.  Baron  de  Biron.  was 
one  of  the  most  characteristic  types  produced  by  the  \Vars~6f  Religion. 
Born  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  especially,  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  recognize  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  Fran9aise,  took  part  in  the  sieges  of  Rouen  and  Amiens, 
and  held  independent  commands  in  the  campaigns  of  Flanders  and  of 
Savoy.  Uniformly  successful  and  repeatedly  wounded,  his  victories 

1  Printed  in  the  Athenaum,  April  6,  1901. 

3  It  is  not  certain,  however,  that  such  a  scene  actually  occurred  in  Chap 
man's  play.  See  my  note  on  Conspiracy  IV,  i,  p.  607,  below. 


INTRODUCTION  593 

and  his  blood  were  repaid  by  a  profuse  shower  of  honours  and  rewards 
from  the  hand  of  the  grateful   King.     He  was  made  Admiral  and 
Marshal  of  France,  Duke   of  Biron,  and  Governor  of  Burgundy.     But 
no  accumulation  of  honours  could  satisfy  his  ambition,  and  from  an 
early  date  (1595)  he  seems  to  have  commenced  a  long  series  of  intrigues 
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.     Thus  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  treasonable  correspon 
dence  during  the  entire  campaign.     Henry,  who  seems  to  have  been 
perfectly  informed  of  his  intrigues,  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  of 
a  new  plot,  looking  to  an  invasion    of  France  by  Spain  and  Savoy 
and  a  general  uprising  of  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  effort  to  save  his  old  comrade-in-arms 
by  summoning  him  into  his  presence,  intimating  his  knowledge  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  think 
it  impossible  that  in  the  worst  event  any  serious  punishment  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  treacherous  noble,  a 
Constable  Bourbon,  or  a  Duke  of  Guise,  were  numbered  in  France. 
He  had  Biron  arrested,  tried,  and  sentenced  to  death.     He  refused  to 
see  him  again,  or  to  listen  to  the  intercession  of  his  powerful  friends. 
The  only  mitigation  of  the  sentence  that  he  accorded  was  that  the 
execution  might  take  place  in  private,  so  as  to  spare  his  old  comrade 
the  last  shame  of  perishing  as  a  criminal  under  the  eyes  of  the  mob  of 
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   the    King   would   not   dare   enforce.     Only  when 
commanded  to  prepare  for  instant  death  did  he  realize  the  fate  that 
had  overtaken  him  ;    he  then  sank  into  the  blackest  despair,  wasted 
his  few  remaining  hours  in  reproaches  and  vain  appeals  for  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  his 
innocence  to  the  guards,  threatened  to  lay  violent  hands  upon   the 
headsman,  and  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  persuaded  to  kneel  that 
the  sentence  might  be  performed.     No  sooner  was  he  down  than  the 
executioner,  fearful  of  another  outbreak,  struck  off  his  head  at  a  blow 
before  he  could  give  the  appointed  signal.     Few  stories  in  ancient  or 
modern  history  give  such  a  poignant  and  ineffaceable  impression  of  the 
Nemesis  that  attends  overweening  pride. 

The  details  of  Biron's  life,  particularly  of  his  conspiracy  and  death, 
were  promptly  registered  by  the  historians  of  France,  Jean  de  Serres, 
Pierre  Matthieu,  and  Palma  Cayet,  and  translated  into  English  by 

C.D.W.  Q   Q 


594  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

Grimeston  in  his  General  Inventory.  Here  Chapman  found  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  gossip — no  trace  of  the  story  appears  either  in  Grimeston 
or  his  French  originals — and  part  of  the  scene  narrating  Biron's  embassy 
to  England,1  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  dramatize  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.2 

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  Tmist  be 
judged  as  a  dramatic  poem  rather  than  as  a  drama  proper.  It  is  little 
less  than  amazing  to  observe  how  completely  in  this  work  Chapman 
has  dispensed  with  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  Elizabethan  drama,  its  vigorous  and  bustling 
action,  its  delight  in  scenes  of  physical  or  psychical  struggle,  its 
frequent  surprises  and  sharp  contrasts.  Nor  is  it  possible,  I  think,  to 
maintain  that  in  discarding  these  Chapman  was  anticipating  the  psycho 
logical  drama  of  a  later  age  where,  in  the  words  of  a  French  critic  on 
Browning,  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 3  extols  the  scene  in  which  Savoy  disgusts  the  King  -by 
his  excessive  praise  of  Byron  as  the  work  '  d'un  psychologue  et  d'un 
mattre  dramaturge '.  But  the  design  of  this  scene  is  taken  direct  from 
Chapman's  source,4  and  the  execution,  with  its  epic  narratives  of 
battles  and  its  patriotic  comparisons  of  Byron  to  a  pair  of  English 
soldiers,  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  such  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,  ii,  where  Byron  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  beg  forgiveness,  or,  supposing  his  repentance  sincere,  as  I  think  it 

1  See  note  on  the  Conspiracy  IV,  p.  607. 

*  It  is  unnecessary  to  give  examples  here,  as  Chapman's  deviations  from 
Grimeston,  as  well  as  his  verbal  borrowings,  are  pointed  out  in  detail  in  the 
notes,  see  especially  pp.  600,  601,  602,  603,  607,  609,  etc. 

3  Histoire  Litteraire  du  Peuple  Anglais,  tome  2,  pp.  823,  seq. 

*  See  note  on  Conspiracy  II,  ii,  58-61, 


INTRODUCTION  595 

Is  meant  to  be,  the  almost  fiercer  struggle  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  con 
centrated  entirely  upon  the  long  oration  of  the  King  which  alone 
separates  Byron's  outburst  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  would  have  had  as 
much  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  their  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  the  sea.  They  contain  long  epic  narrations  of 
past  events,1  epic  digressions  or  episodes,  such  as  the  scene  in  the  house 
of  the  astrologer,  or  the  quarrel  and  reconciliation  between  Henry's 
Queen  and  his  mistress.  The  lack-of-xharj-cterization  in  jthe  minor 
partsisnoticeable  even  for  Chapman.  Apart  from  Henry  and  B"yron 
hiiffseirwe  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  jEneas,  too  weak  to  bear  even  the  weight  of  a  distinguishing 
epithet — fortetnque  Cyan  fortetnque  Cloanthum. 

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  J>y_  action,  of  which  there  is  singularly  little  mTSes^Dlavs'  it  is 
static,  not' kinetic  :  there  is  no^  evolution  of  character.  Byron  belongs 
rather  to  tEe  "cTass_pf  Tamberjaine  and  Rich'ar^  "fTI  than  fo""that"  of 
MacEelh"  ofCoriolanus  ;  ancj.  Henry  Remains  the  same  from  his  firstl, 
word  To  Tns  last.  Their  characters,  ^are  placed  before  us  aF"once,  3.1? a 
by  '  alewTbroad  stron^sitoEes  often  repeated  ',  to  borrow  Swinburne's 
apt  phrase,^  the  "outlines  are  deepened  and  jjtrengtflgned  until  jtEs 
impression  jsjinfifiaceabTe.  Both  characters"  are'  drawn  orTlhe' heroic 
scale  ^j£Fi  but  little  attention  to  "realisHTrportraiTljye,  TEeTe  are^.  to 
be  sure^  a  number  of  reallsTic'toucLes  in  each  character,  tagen  o^er 
in  eachcase  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  njjnnat  fmprrhnrmn  figures 
two  supremely  interesting  tyrjes^which  he  saw  in  the  world  about  hinu 

ifenryTsTne  Type^of*  the  New  Monarchy  which  rose 'out  01  tne  ruin  01 

1  Such  as  the  accounts  of  Ivry  and  Fontaine  Francaise  in  the  Conspiracy 
I,  2. 


596  THE   CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

ike  Renaissance  in  the  anarchy  of  the  Wars  of  Religion,  a  monarchy 
national  in  origin,  absolute  by  principle.  But  he  is  something  more 
than  a  mere  representative  of  the  New  Monarchy,  he  is  the  ideal 
monarch,  as  Chapman  conceived  him,  the  Patriot  King.  The  throne 
which  he  has  won  by  long  years  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  people  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  words  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 
has  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  V  the 
'  angel '  that  helped  him  in  later  years  to  calm  and  settle  the  '  turbulent 
sea  of  civic  hates  '.a  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  3  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  speaker,  but  contains  the  poet's  noblest  expression 
of  his  conception  of  the  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  inferior 
to  Shakespeare. 

Like  Henry,  Byron  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  virtues, 
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  E.enais- 
sance  spirit  of  boundless,  aspiration  to  which  Marlowe  gavje  in  English 
odetry  at  once  the  fij^t  and  the  mostperi£ct  expression  in  the  well-known 
^Xspeech^^ol  Tanibfrlainr — 

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. 
8  The  Tragedy  I,  i,  115-120. 
3  The  Tragedy  IV,  ii,  63-85. 


INTRODUCTION  597 

the  passage  in  which  Byron  defies  the  fate  predicted  by  his  stars, 
and  determines  to  press  on  to  his  goal  regardless  of  danger  or  restraining 
law — 

Be  free,  all  worthy  spirits, 

And  stretch  yourselves  for  greatness  and  for  height, 
Untruss  your  slaveries  ;  you  have  height  enough 
Beneath  this  steep  heaven  to  use  all  your  reaches  ; 
'Tis  too  far  off  to  let  you,  or  respect  you. 
Give  me  a  spirit  that  on  this  life's  rough  sea 
Loves  f  have  his  sails  filVd  with  a  lusty  wind, 
Even  till  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. 
He  goes  before  them  and  commands  them  all.1 

These  are  lines  that  Marlowe  might  have  written,  and  they  reveal 
spirit  such  as  Marlowe  loved  ;  but  Chapman,  an  older  and  wiser  man 
than  Marlowe,  saw  behind  these  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  meritless  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  claims 
the  rih  to 


/,  who  through  all  the  dangers  that  can  siege 
The  life  of  man  have  forc'd  my  glorious  way 
To  the  repairing  of  my  country's  ruins, 
Will  ruin  it  again  to  re-advance  »'f.a 

From  the  moment  that  the  cessation  of  foreign  war  left  two  such 
characters,  two  such  opposing  principles  we  might  almost  call  them, 
as  Byron  and  Henry  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  loyal  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  '  ^ 

1  The  Conspiracy  III,  iii,  130-144.  *  The  Tragedy  I,  ii,  32-35. 


598  TttE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

King  drops  out  of  the  foreground  and  all  our  interest  is  centred  on 
the  ruined  noble.  In  the  last  act  Chapman  borrows  every  telling 
touch  from  the  vivid  contemporary  narratives  of  Biron's  imprisonment 
and  death,  and  strains  all  his  own  powers  of  tragic  and  sonorous 
verse  to  heighten  and  intensify  the  pathos  of  his  fate.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  the  historic  Biron  moves/ perhaps,  less  pity  than  any  other  of  the 
noble  traitors  of  his  age,  Guise,  Essex,  Raleigh,  or  Wallenstein,  but  in 
reading  Chapman's  play  we  forget  history  and  look  on  Byron's 
death  not  as  the  just  punishment  for  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  environment. 
In  the  Byron  plays,  owing  to  the  typical  character  of  the  two  main 
figures,  it  is  more  general,  and  we  have  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  upon  license,  in  the  realms  of  the  intellect,  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  enough 
to  predict  the  victory  of  the  new,  he  was  too  much  the  poet  and  child 
of  the  Renaissance  not  to  lament  the  downfall  of  the  old.  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 

Dedication.  Sir  Thomas  Walsingham  (1568-1630)  was  a  well-known 
courtier  and  patron  of  letters  in  Chapman's  day.  His  wife  was  a  lady  of  the 
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  patron  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  pre 
cocious  youth  of  eight  years  at  the  date  of  Chapman's  dedication  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 1 A II  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  Introduction, 
P-  592. 

Prologus.    11.  12-15.    The  simile  is  drawn  from  Homer,  Iliad,  V,  5-6 : 

Like  rich  Autumnus'  golden  lamp,  whose  brightness  men  admire 
Past  all  the  host  of  other  stars,  when,  with  his  cheerful  face 
Fresh  wash'd  in  lofty  Ocean  waves,  he  doth  the  skies  enchase. 

Chapman's  Iliad. 

Compare  also  a  passage  in  Bussy,  II,  i,  omitted  in  the  second  quarto,  bu 
printed  here  on  p.  564,  beginning 

See  how  it  runs,  most  like  a  turbulent  sea. 

1.  19.  The  fair  shades  of  himself  :  Brereton  (loc.  cit.,  p.  60)  interprets  '  the 
images  of  himself  invested  with  royal  dignity  '. 

DRAMATIS  PERSON AK 

Albert,  Archduke  of  Austria  (155971621),  son  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian  IP 
and  son-in-law  of  Philip  II  of  Spain,  who  gave  him  his  daughter  Isabella  in 
marriage  an  d  made  him  ruler  of  the  Low  Countries.  He  carried  on  war  against 
Henry  IV  till  the  Peace  of  Vervins  in  1598. 

The  Duke  of  Savoy,  Charles  Emmanuel  (1562-1630),  son  of  Philibert  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  seized  the 
Marquisate  of  Saluces  (Saluzzo)  which  had  been  incorporated  with  France 
by  Cnarles  IX.  Henry  IV  insisted  upon  its  restoration,  and  the  Duke  came 

1  See  Atherueum  June  27,  1908. 
599 


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. 

D'Auvergne,  Charles  de  Valois,  a  natural  son  of  Charles  IX  by  Marie  Touchet, 
and  half-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  of  Clermont  in  the 
Revenge  of  Bussy  (see  the  Introduction  to  that  play,  p.  572). 

Nemours,  Henry  of  Savoy,  Duke  of  Nemours,  a  cousin  of  the  Duke  of 
Savoy.  He  joined  the  League  and  fought  against  Henry  IV,  but  was  recon 
ciled  to  him  in  1596. 

Soissons,  Charles  de  Bourbon,  Count  of  Soissons,  a  cousin  of  Henry  IV.  He 
appears  as  one  of  the  characters  in  The  Revenge  of  Bussy,  but  has  no  speech 
assigned  him  in  that  play. 

D'Aumont.  I  cannot  identify  this  character ;  perhaps  the  son  of  Marshal 
D'Aumont,  ob.  1595. 

Crequi,  Charles,  Marquis  of  Crequi,  and  Marshal  of  France,  a  distinguished 
soldier  in  the  wars  of  Henry  IV.  He  accompanied  Biron  on  his  embassy  to 
England. 

Epernon,  Jean  Louis  de  Nogaret,  Duke  of  Epernon,  one  of  the  most  powerful 
of  French  noblemen  under  Henry  III  and  Henry  IV.  He  was  one  of  the 
'  minions  '  of  Henry  III,  refused  at  first  to  recognize  Henry  IV,  but  was 
reconciled  to  him  in  1596,  and  was  seated  by  him  in  the  royal  coach  when  he 
was  stabbed  by  Ravaillac.  Chapman  introduces  him  in  The  Revenge  of 
Bussy  as  well  as  in  the  Byron  plays. 

Bellievre,  Pomponne  de  Bellievre,  Chancellor  of  France  from  1599  to  I6o7, 
plenipotentiary  at  the  Congress  of  Vervins,  and  ambassador  to  Brussels  along 
with  Biron.  Later  he  presided  at  Biron's  trial. 

Brulart,  Nicolas  Brulart,  Marquis  of  Sillery,  associated  with  Bellievre  at 
Vervins  and  Brussels. 

D'Aumale,  the  Duke  D'Aumale,  an  old  leader  of  the  League,  and  one  of 
the  bitterest  enemies  of  Henry  IV.  He  was  at  this  time,  1599,  an  exile  at 
Brussels. 

Orange,  Philip  William,  the  eldest  son  of  William  the  Silent,  who  was  seized 
by  Alva  in  1567  and  brought  up  at  the  Spanish  Court.  He  returned  to  the 
Low  Countries  in  the  train  of  Archduke  Albert  in  1596. 

Mansfield,  Pierre  Ernest,  Count  of  Mansfield,  a  German  soldier  of  great 
distinction  in  the  wars  of  Charles  V  and  Philip  II.  He  was  temporary 
governor  of  the  Low  Countries  after  the  death  of  Parma. 

Vitry>  Louis  de  L' Hospital,  Marquis  of  Vitry,  originally  a  follower  of  Alenfon, 
the  '  Monsieur  '  of  Bussy  and  of  The  Revenge  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  1595.  He  ar 
rested  Biron  at  Fontainbleau  in  1602. 

Janin,  Pierre  Janin,  or  Jeannin,  a  close  friend  and  councillor  of  Henry  IV 
after  his  abjuration.  He  took  an  important  part  in  drawing  up  the  Edict  of 
Nantes.  Henry  used  him  as  a  messenger  to  induce  Biron  to  come  to  Court 
just  before  his  arrest. 

La  Brosse  :   Chapman  got  this  name  from  Grimeston  (p.  993). 

I,  i,  20.     My  brother  Spain:  Philip  III  of  Spain,  whose  half-sister  Catherine 

had  married  the  Duke  of  Savoy. 
I,  i,  34.    Her  elder  sister,  the  Infanta  Isabella,  who  married  the  Archduke 

Albert. 
I,  i,  41.     Franche-Comte',  a  district  south  and  east  of  Burgundy,  at  this  time 

in  the  possession  of  Spain. 
I,  i,  53.     Chymical  philosophers  :  alchemists. 
I,  i,   59-82.     This  character  of  Byron  is  taken  straight    from    Grimeston 

(p.  992).     It  occurs  originally,  as  Koeppel  (loc.  cit.,  p.  19)  has  pointed  out, 

in  Cayet  (p.  3166).     Chapman  has  here  done  little  more  than  versify 

Grimeston. 


NOTES  601 

I,  i,  89.  His  ambassage :  the  embassy  sent  by  Henry  IV  to  witness  the  Arch 
duke's  oath  to  observe  the  Treaty  of  Vervins  at  Brussels  in  1598. 

I,  i,  118-21.  Mr.  Crawford  has  pointed  out  to  ine  a  curious  analogue  to  these 
lines  in  Bacon's  Apothegms,  No.  119  :  A  Spartan  wrote  to  Philip  of  Macedon 
boasting  of  his  victory  at  Chaeronea  that  if  he  measured  his  shadow  he 
would  find  it  no  longer  than  it  was  before  his  victory. 

I,  i,  126.  '  La  Fin,  in  quarrel  with  some  great  personages  of  the  realm,  and 
surcharged  with  debts  and  suits  in  law  '.  Grimeston,  p.  960. 

I,  i,  141.  To  piece  out  the  defects  of  right:  cf.  Bussy,  II,  i,  167,  to  imp  the 
law. 

I,  i,  164.  My  Marquisate  of  Saluces  :  Saluzzo,  a  district  in  north-west  Italy 
at  the  foot  of  the  Alps,  seized  by  Savoy  in  1588. 

I,  i,  183-92.  This  simile  is  a  favourite  of  Chapman's.  It  occurs  first  in  De 
Guiana,  1596 : 

But  as  a  river  from  a  mountain  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. 

Poems,  p.  50. 

See  also  the  poem  Of  Friendship,  and  Chabot,  V,  i,  16-19. 

I,  i,  200.  The  Great  Duke's  niece  :  Marie  de  Medici,  niece  of  Ferdinand  Grand 
Duke  of  Tuscany,  married  to  Henry  IV  in  1600. 

I,  i,  212.     The  peace,  i.e.,  of  Vervins,  1598. 

I,  ii.  Roiseau.  Grimeston,  p.  816,  calls  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. 

I,  ii,  10.  The  man:  Picot6  ;  '  one  called  Picot£,  born  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, 
253-3I5- 

I,  ii,  41.  Hercules.  Apollodorus  (Biblio.  II,  v,  10)  relates  how  Hercules 
journeying  through  Africa  to  fetch  the  cattle  of  Geryon  was  so  oppressed 
with  heat  that  in  a  burst  of  anger  he  bent  his  bow  against  the  sun.  Chap 
man  refers  to  this  story  again  in  Chabot,  II,  ii,  84-5  ;  see  note  ad  loc. 

I,  ii,  48-9.  Cf.  Bussy  D'Ambois,  V,  iii,  42,  where  Chapman  speaks  of  the 
'  music  footed  horse  '  of  Apollo. 

I,  ii,  58-60.  This  account  of  the  sentence  passed  upon  the  Duke  D'Aumale, 
and  the  more  detailed  account  below  hi  11. 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  derniers  troubles,  1601,  livre  v,  p.  626).  It 
also  occurs,  however,  in  Serres  (Inventaire  [Generale,  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. 

I,  ii,  99-103.  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  his  rival.  It  is 
the  nature  of  absolute  powers,  such  as  you  superiors,  to  destroy  one  another 
when  they  come  into  conflict.  Cf.  '  Two  stars  keep  not  their  motion  in  one 
sphere*.  I.K.H.IV.,  V,  iv,  65. 


m 


602  THE  CONSPIRACY   AND  TRAGEDY   OF  BYRON 

I*  ii,  118-31.  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  1600-1.  The  Duke  of  Savoy,  who 
had  counted  on  Spanish  aid,  was  bitterly  disappointed  by  the  hard  terms 
of  the  treaty  and  for  a  long  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  courtesy  was  the  conclusion 
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  beholding  to  him  '. 

The  phrase  '  'Twixt  Spain  and  Savoy  '  in  1.  120  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  indeed  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  Picote  refers  to  this  meeting  two  years  before  it  had 
taken  place. 

I,  ii,  174.  This  man's  :  Picot6's.  The  first  article  of  the  charge  of  treason 
drawn  against  Biron  was  that  he  had  used  Picote  as  a  means  of  com 
municating  privately  with  the  Archduke.  See  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  ii, 
47-51- 

I,  ii,  186.     Mansfield  was  at  this  time  over  eighty  years  of  age. 

I,  ii,  198.     The  lords  :  i.e.  the  other  Commissioners,  Bellievre  and  Brulart. 

I,  ii,  203-10.  This  list  of  gifts  is  taken  almost  word  for  word  from  Grimeston, 
p.  8 1 6,  except  that  the  name  Pastrana  does  not  appear.  It  occurs, 
however,  on  p.  944. 

I,  ii,  226.     The  great  author:  Henry  IV  of  France. 

II,  i.  Stage-direction.     I  have  inserted  A  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. 

n,  i,  39.  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,  11.  752-770. 

II,  i,  151.  Pelides  in  Scamander's  flood.  The  reference  is  to  Achilles'  combat 
with  the  River-god  Scamander  as  told  by  Homer,  Iliad,  XXI,  211,  seq. 

II,  i,  159.  Don  Sebastian  :  Sebastian  I,  King  of  Portugal,  slain  at  the  battle 
of  Alcazar,  1578,  in  Morocco.  The  report  that  Philip  II  of  Spain  gave  a 
hundred  thousand  crowns  for  his  body  is  mentioned  by  Cayet  (Chronologie 
Sept.,  ed.  1605,  p.  234&)  and  Grimeston,  p.  952.  Chapman  seems  to  hold 
the  Portuguese  view  that  Don  Sebastian  had  escaped  from  the  battle  and 
that  the  body  in  question  was  that  of  a  Swiss  soldier. 

II,  ii,  1-8.  The  dangers  attending  citizens'  wives  at  the  Court,  especially  on 
nights  when  masques  were  performed,  are  frequently  alluded  to  by  con 
temporary  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., 
1811). 

II,  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, 
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  eome  to  Chapman  through  Lyly,'who  drew  largely  upon  this 


NOTES  603 

work  for  his  letter  of  Euphues  to  Philautus  on  the  latter's  marriage, 
Euphues  and  his  England  (p.  471-5,  Arber's  reprint).  I  owe  this  reference 
to  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Charles  Crawford. 

II,  ii,  58-81.  This  device  of  Savoy's  to  draw  out  Henry  is  based  upon  Grime- 
stpn,  p.  883.  '  The  Duke's  proceeding  therein  [i.e.  in  provoking 
Biron  against  the  king]  was  very  cunning  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  always  give  him  the  glory  of  those 
goodly  executions,  whereof  he  [Biron]  wanted.  The  Duke  did  still  ad 
vertise  the  Duke  Biron  of  anything  the  King  had  said  of  him  that  might 
any  way  alter  him  '. 

n,  ii,  93.  As  unrelentingly  hostile  as  Juno  to  Hercules.  LI.  94-101  are 
taken  from  Plutarch,  De  Alexandra  Magni  Virtute  aut  Fortuna,  9.  The 
Latin  text  suggested  Chapman's  diction. 

II,  ii,  112.  Siege  of  Dreux.  The  account  of  the  battle  which  follows  is  taken 
almost  verbally  from  Grimeston's  account  of  the  battle  of  Ivry,  p.  748. 
As  Koeppel  (loc.  cit.)  points  out,  Grimeston's  original,  Jean  de  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. 

II,  ii,  128.  Your  Duke's  old  father:  the  Marshal  du  Biron,  father  of  Charles, 
a  soldier  almost  as  famous  as  his  son. 

II,  ii,  134.  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 
Francaise.  Finally  Mayenne  submitted  on  favourable  terms,  recognized 
Henry  as  King,  1596,  and  became  his  faithful  subject. 

n,  ii,  186-41.  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  '. 

II,  ii,  144.  Fontaine  Franpaise:  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  close  friend  of  Biron  who  rescued  him  from 
death  or  captivity  at  Fontaine  Francaise. 

II,  ii,  186.  Their  great  general's:  Mayenne,  whose  inaction  at  Fontaine 
Francaise  was  one  cause  of  the  Leaguers'  defeat. 

II,  ii,  216.  Mylor*  Norn's :  Sir  John  Norris  (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  knighted  for  distinguished 
bravery  by  Leicester.  Along  with  Drake  he  commanded  the  great  expedi 
tion  despatched  against  Spain  in  1589.  In  1591  and  1593  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. 

H,  ii,  220-3.  The  punctuation  of  this  passage  is  hopelessly  confused  in  the 
Qq.  I  take  11.  221-2  to  be  parenthetical  and  have  so  marked  them. 
After  the  phrase,  on  any  sudden,  supply  '  call '  or  '  emergency  '. 

n,  ii,  224.  Colonel  Williams.  Sir  Roger  Williams  (1540  7-95)  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 
bravery. 

"TJ       26-46.     It  is  a  curious  instance  of  Chapm;in's  lack  of  consistently  de- 


604  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

veloped  characterization  that  Byron  in  these  lines  and  his  following 
speech  repeats  almost  literally  the  sentiments  of  Picote  in  I,  ii,  86-136. 
The  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  doctrines  of 
Machiavellian  state-craft.  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  occasion,  as  here, 
than  on  the  harmonious  development  of  character. 

Ill,  i,  34.     The  pikes'  points  charging  heaven,  i.e.  lifted  in  salute. 

Ill,  i,  52.     Through  should  here  be  pronounced  as  a  dissyllable. 

Ill,  i,  66.     '.  Your  Grace's  piercing  and  forcible  arguments  '. 

Ill,  ii,  7.  The  painter  mentioned  here  is  not  introduced  in  any  stage  direction, 
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. 

Ill,  ii,  16.  Potatoes  :  the  sweet  potato,  for  that  is  the  plant  usually  meant 
by  this  word  down  to  about  1650,  was  considered  an  aphrodisiac.  Gerard 
says  (Herball,  1597,  p.  781)  '  they  procure  bodily  lust,  and  that  with 
greedinesse  '.  Marston  (Scourge  of  Villany,  I,  iii,  70)  mentions  candied 
potatoes  as  an  aphrodisiac. 

Ill,  ii,  60.  The  Welsh  herald  of  their  praise.  '  The  cuckoo  was  sometimes 
called  "  The  Welsh  Ambassador  "...  In  Middleton's  A  Trick  to  catch 
the  Old  One,  iv,  5,  we  read  "  Why,  thou  rogue.  .  .  .  thy  sound  is  like  the 
cuckoo,  the  Welsh  Ambassador  "  '.  Phipspn,  Animal  Lore  of  Shake 
speare's  Time,  p.  206.  Chapman  here  fancies  the  cuckoo  as  especially 
given  to  singing  praises  of  Welshmen  ;  yet  even  the  cuckoo  would  not 
have  compared  Williams  to  Byron. 

Ill,  ii,  65.  Curtian  Gulf.  Livy,  vii,  6,  tells  how  in  the  year  359  B.C.  an 
earthquake  opened  a  gulf  in  the  Roman  Forum  which  nothing  could  close. 
The  augurs  declared  that  it  would  never  be  closed  until  there  were  thrown 
into  it  that  on  which  the  greatness  of  Rome  depended.  A  young  warrior, 
Marcus  Curtius,  declared  that  the  state  depended  on  valour  and  arms, 
and  mounting  his  steed  plunged  in  full  armour  into  the  gulf,  which  closed 
above  his  head.  The  spot  in  the  Forum  where  he  sank  was  henceforth 
called  the  Curtian  pool. 

Ill,  ii,  86.  Livers.  The  liver,  here,  as  so  often  in  Elizabethan  poetry,  is 
thought  of  as  the  seat  of  the  emotions. 

Ill,  ii,  97.  The  Cyclop  :  a  form  of  the  singular,  from  the  French  Cyclope. 
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  pluck'd,  after  which  the  blood 
Flow'd  freshly  forth  ;  and,  mad,  he  hurl'd  the  wood 
About  his  hovel. 

Chapman's  Odyssey. 

The  comparison  of  an  army  deprived  of  its  leader  to  the  blind  Cyclop 
and  to  a  dying  body  is  from  Plutarch's  De  Alex.  Mag.  etc.  Oratio  II,  4. 
The  Latin  text  evidently  suggested  Chapman's  phraseology  :  Statim 
autem  mortuo  Alexandra  exercitum  ejus  vagantem  et  in  seipsum  impingentem 
Leosthenes  similemdixit  Cyclopi  esse,  qui  amisso  oculo  usquequaque  manus 
intendebat  nullumad  certum  scopum  directas.  .  .  .  Atque  adeo  sicut  anima 
deserente  cadavera  non consistunt, noncoherent,  sed  dissipantur  et  dissolvuntur : 
ita  exercitus  Alexandra  amoto  palpitabat,  concutiebatur,  atque  aestuabat 
.  .  .  tanquam  spiritibus  etiamnum  calidis  ac  pulsibus  in  corpore  discur- 
rentibus. 

Ill,  ii,  117.  Here  the  Savoyards  interrupt  the  conversation  with  their  out 
burst  in  praise  of  the  portrait  which  the  painter  has  all  this  time  been 
making  of  Byron. 

IH  ii.  122-9.  This  passage  comes  from  Grimeston,  p.  852.  '  The  Duke  of 
Biron  did  see  him  [Peter  de  Pinac]  in  his  sicknesse,  and  assisted  at  his 


NOTES  605 


funeral.  No.  man  living  did  better  judge  of  the  nature  of  men  by  the 
consideration  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  after  his  departure.  Hee 
hath  the  worst  Phisiognomie  that  ever  I  observed  in  my  life,  as  of  a  man  that 
would  perish  miserably  '.  It  seems  somewhat  strange  that  Chapman  should 
quote  such  a  prediction  at  this  point  when  the  Savoyards  are  flattering 
Byron.  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  Grimestoh 
without  caring  for  its  dramatic  propriety. 

Ill,  ii,  138.  The  stage  direction  after  this  line  is  not  very  clear.  As  it  stands 
in  the  Qq.  it  would  imply  that  Roncas,  the  speaker,  snatches  away  the 
picture.  But  I  fancy  that  the  He  of  the  direction  means  Byron  (cf. 
11.  140-1),  and  that  as  so  often  in  the  old  texts  the  stage-direction  is  placed 
too  early. 

Ill,  ii,  140-77.  This  long  speech  is  founded  on  a  passage  in  Plutarch,  De 
Alexandra  Magni :  Fortuna  aut  virtute,  Oratio,  II,  2.  Speaking  of 
Alexander's  patronage  of  the  sculptor  Lysippus,  Plutarch  uses  words 
which  Chapman  simply  paraphrases :  Quod  is  [Lysippus]  solus  cere  in- 
genium  ipsius  [Alexander]  exprimeret,  simulque  cum  forma  etiam  virtutem 
proponeret :  reliqui  inclinationem  cervicis,  oculorumque  renidentem  volubili- 
tatem  imitari  volentes,  masculum  ejus  leonimumque  vultum  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  freely  in  the  attempt 
to  adapt  the  passage  to  the  situation  in  his  play.  Thus  he  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,  ebur,  venalia  et  furtis  exposita  '  find  their  counterparts  in  11.  174-6. 

Ill,  ii,  168.  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. 

HI,  ii,  181.  Cabinet  of  Beatrice:  the  jewel  case  of  Beatrice  of  Portugal, 
grandmother  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy. 

HI,  ii,  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 '. 

Ill,  ii,  195.  I  take  it  that  on  the  entrance  of  Nemours  and  Soissons  Savoy 
first  calls  Byron's  attention  to  them,  and  then  dropping  his  voice  tells  him 
(11.  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  (U  201),  as  if  he  had 
just  noticed  them.  I  have  tried  to  bring  out  this  construction  of  the 
passage  by  the  punctuation. 

HI,  ii,  227-8.     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.  ii. 

To  this  passage  Chapman  himself  appends  a  note  :   '  This  Strabo  testi- 

1  Chapman  apparently  uses  the  Greek  common  noun  opo?,  mountain,  as  a  proper  name 
here ;  but  he  may  have  borrowed  the  name  from  Oros,  a  peak  in  Aegina. 


606  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

fieth  Libro  duodecimo '.     Strabo  XII,  ii,  7,  gives  such  a  report  of  the 
priestesses  of  Diana  Perasia  (hence,  perhaps,  Chapman's  Persic  empire)  at 
Castabala. 
Ill,  ii,  229.     /  build  not  outward :   cf. 

Like  the  martlet 
Builds  in  the  weather  on  the  outward  wall. 

Merchant  of  Venice,  II,  ix,  28-9. 

Ill,  ii,  238-41.  Men  mere  exempt  .  .  .  markets :  only  men  free  from  all 
connexion  with  power  are  clear,  i.e.  unstained  ;  indeed,  it  is  safer  to  choose 
a  friend  from  the  pillory  than  from  the  Court. 

Ill,  ii,  247-62.  This  elaborate  simile  is  drawn  from  the  Elizabethan  fashion  of 
publishing  books,  of  poetry  in  particular,  preceded  by  a  host  of  eulogistic 
poems.  These  are  the  goodly  heralds  of  1.  248.  The  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  .  pens  alone  imp 
(piece  out)  the  Muses'  wings,  he  spends  his  nights  with  the  Muses,  his  head 
is  clothed  with  the  poet's  bays,  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. 

HI,  ii,  275.  That  matchless  Queen :  Elizabeth  of  England.  With  the  follow 
ing  eulogy  of  her  Court,  cf.  the  passage  in  Bussy,  I,  ii,  6-27. 

Ill,  iii.  This  scene  is  based  upon  a  detailed  account  in  Grimeston  of  Biron'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  taken  with  no 
change  from  Grimeston,  who  translated  it  from  Cayet  (p.  319,  seq., 
edition  of  1605).  An  exactly  similar  account  occurs  in  the  anonymous 
Histoire  de  la  Vie  .  .  .  du  Mareschal  de  Biron,  1602  (Cimber's  Archives 
curieuses  de  I'histoire  de  France,  ire  Serie,  Tome  14).  Cayet  either  wrote 
this  pamphlet  or  incorporated  it  in  his  later  work  (Chronologic  Septenaire, 
1605).  The  speeches,  on  the  other  hand,  are  largely  Chapman's  own  in 
vention. 

Ill,  iii,  36.     '  Into  the  circle  (compass)  of  the  throne  for  ,'which  I  am  striving  '. 

Ill,  iii,  52.  The  phrase,  Caput  Algol,  taken  like  so  much  else  in  this  scene 
from  Grimeston,  is  an  astrological  term.  Algol  (Arabic  al-ghul,  the 
ghoul)  is  the  star  /3  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  dreadfull  rise 

As  Caput  Algot  [misprint  for  Algol]  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. 
HI,  iii,  55-69.    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  (Byron's  Tragedy,  IV,  ii,  226,  228). 
HI,  iii,  64.     '  What  thou  must  utter  with  thy  tongue,  if  it  is  to  be  made  known 

to  me  safely  '.     So  at  least  I  understand  the  passage,  but  must  may  be  a 

misprint  for  may'st.     See  Text  Notes,  p.  625. 
Ill,  iii,  73.     Hold  on,  in  the  sense  of  '  continue  '. 
Ill,  iii,  84.    This  line  lacks  a  syllable  of  the  normal  metre  and  is,  I  believe, 

corrupt.     See  Text  Notes,  p.  625. 
IH,  iii,  89.     The  bulh   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 

in,  iii,  90.  The  most  mortal  vapours :  a  reference  to  the  old  belief  that  the 
fumes  rising  from  Lake  Avernus,  the  supposed  entrance  to  Hades, 
stifled  even  the  birds  which  tried  to  fly  across  it. 

HI,  iii,  90-100.  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 
intoxicated  with  pride. 

HI,  iii,  122.  Aspects  .  .  .  houses  :  astrological  terms  ;  the  former  denoting 
'  the  way  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. 

HI,  iii,  140-3.  These  lines  were  chosen  by  Shelley  as  a  motto  for  his  Laon 
and  Cythna. 

III,  iii,  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  curtajn  could  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  Koeppel's  suggestion  as  a  certainty,  the  more  so  as 
Camden,  Chapman's  contemporary,  and  probable  acquaintance,  denies 
the  reality  of  this  scene :  Quod  quiddam  Gallici  scriptores  prodiderint, 
earn  [Elizabeth]  cranium  Essexii  inter  plura  damnatorum,  in  intimo  Larario, 
vel  (ut  alii  scribunt),  polo  affix  urn,  Bironio  et  Gallis  ostentasse,  ridicule 
vanum  est.  Illud  enim  una  cum  cor  pore  consepulium.  (Annales,  vol.  3, 
p.  877,  edition  1717.) 

The  long  speech  of  the  Queen  (11.  8-58)  is  taken  almost  word  for  word 
from  Grimeston,  p.  945,  who  translates  it  from  Matthieu ;  but  the  suc 
ceeding  speeches,  which  have  to  me  a  like  air  of  paraphrase,  are  not  to  be 
found  in  that  source,  and  I  have  not  been  able  to  trace  them. 

IV,  i,  25-38.     A  quotation  from  Grimeston,  p.  945,  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  contemne  the  Waves  of  the  Sea,  as  the  desseignes 
of  his  enemies  uppon  the  Land  '. 

IV,  i,  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  elaborations  of  his  original. 

IV,  i,  61.  '  He  '  in  this  line  is  not  Byron,  but  his  master  Henry  IV,  for  whom 
he  is  speaking. 

IV,  i,  108-7.     Note  the  change  from  indirect  to  direct  discourse  in  these  lines, 


608  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

a  dear  proof  that  the  act  has  been  pieced  together  from  a  cut-up  manu 
script. 

IV,  i,  139.    See  the  note  on  Revenge  of  Bussy,  II,  i,  176-81. 

IV,  i,  145.  There  seems  to  be  a  slight  anachronism  here.  Grimeston,  p.  964, 
says  that  on  his  return  to  France  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  born. 

IV,  i,  156.  D'Auvergne  is  here  called  '  Prince  '  on  account  of  his  royal  birth. 
See  note  on  Dramatis  Personae. 

IV,  i,  158.    A  Councillor  :  perhaps  Robert  Cecil. 

IV,  i,  160-1.  The  pun  in  these  lines  is  plainer  in  the  quartos,  where  Dauphin 
appears  in  the  old  spelling  as  Daulphine,  or  Dolphin.  The  story  of  Arion, 
the  minstrel,  who  threw  himself  into  the  sea  to  escape  the  murderous 
sailors,  and  was  borne  safe  to  shore  by  a  music-loving  dolphin,  is  told  by 
Herodotus,  I,  xxiv. 

IV,  i,  179-84.  This  simile  is  from  Plutarch,  De  Alex.  Mag.  Fort,  aut  Virtute, 
Oratio  II,  4.  As  before  (III,  ii,  140-77)  the  Latin  text  suggests  Chapman's 
diction. 

IV,  i,  189.  The  sentence  is  interrupted  here  to  introduce  the  long  simile  that 
follows,  11.  190-205.  The  Qq.  have  only  a  comma  after  greatest,  but  the 
dash  seems  to  make  the  structure  of  the  sentence  clearer. 

IV,  i,  213.  The  fixed  stars  twinkle,  whereas  the  planets,  or  erring,  i.e.  wander 
ing,  stars,  shine  steadily. 

IV,  i,  216.     '  Whom  the  stars  direct  and  govern  '. 

IV,  i,  221-3.     '  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  '. 

V,  i,  21.     Bourg,  i.e.,  Bourg-en-Bresse,  a  town  near  the  south-eastern  border 
of  France.     It  had  been  ceded  to  the  Duke  of  Savoy  by  the  Treaty  of 
Cambrai,  and  was  in  1600  esteemed  '  one  of  the  strongest  places  in  Europe  ' 
(Grimeston,  p.  894).     The  town  was  surprised  by  Biron  in  the  war  of  1600 
between  France  and  Savoy,  and  he  therefore  believed  that  he  had  earned 
the  right  of  nominating  the  commander  of  its  citadel,  which  was  surren 
dered  at  the  close  of  the  war. 

V,  i,  42-6.  This  simile  is  taken  direct  from  Plutarch  De  Primo  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  securum,  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  unless  he  obtained  what  he 
sought. 

V,  i,  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,  i,  69-75.  The  reasons  given  here,  and  in  11.  115-18,  for  Henry's  refusal  are 
taken  almost  literally  from  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  you  do  not  regard  your  honour,  i.e.  the  honour  springing  from 
titles,  etc.,  why  do  you  ask  for  this  distinction,  i.e.  the  privilege  of  nomin 
ating  a  commander  for  the  citadel  of  Bourg.' 

V,  i,  128.     Into  the  horse-fair  :  i.e.  into  a  place  where  it  can  produce  no  good. 

V,  i,  130.  See  note  on  IV,  i,  40.  The  idea  here  is  that  Heaven  keeps  a  true 
record  of  men's  actions. 

V,  i,  142-54.  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  skirmishes  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 

i  .    '.  ftu    i  ;     >•»  F'^Lx»t'V»f»      rj.'/  '••  :•..'.  "i  >     •  ••••          i     •>.   :.•.•! 

Paul,  he  took  and  spoiled  the  town  ...  he  returns  to  Bapaume,  .  .  . 
spoils  Courcelles,  .  .  .  makes  a  road  toward  Bethune.runs  into  Douai ' 
(Grimeston,  p.  790).  Evidently  Chapman  had  Grimeston  open  before 
him  when  he  wrote  these  lines. 

V,  ii.  This  scene  is  elaborated  by  Chapman  from  a  couple  of  brief  hints  in 
Grimeston.  On  p.  961  he  says  :  '  This  denial  [of  the  right  to  nominate 
a  keeper  of  the  citadel  at  Bourg]  did  so  transport  the  Duke  of  Birpn, 
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  p.  962,  '  But  finding 
.  .  .  that  the  King  had  some  notice  of  his  practices  with  La  Fin,  he  seemed 
to  bee  verie  penitent,  and  asked  pardon  of  the  King,  walking  in  the  Cloister 
of  the  Franciscane  Friars  at  Lions,  beseeching  him  (with  a  countenance 
full  of  contrition  and  humilitie)  to  forget  his  bad  intentions,  the  which 
rage  and  dispight  for  the  Cittadell  of  Bourg  had  possessed  his  heart  with. 
The  King  pardoned  him.  Saying  that  he  was  well  pleased,  that  hee  had 
relyed  upon  his  clemencie,  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,  1.  42)  ;  from  the  second,  Byron's  kneeling  for  pardon 
(stage  direction  after  1.  84)  and  the  King's  forgiveness.  The  two  inci 
dents  are  brought  into  immediate  connection  by  Chapman  for  the  sake 
of  dramatic  effect.  Really  both  came  after,  not  before,  the  departure  of 
Savoy  from  France,  which  takes  place  at  the  close  of  this  scene. 
V,  ii,  19.  Antic  vizard,  i.e.  the  grotesque  mask  of  the  ancient  comic  actor, 
which  seems  to  mock  the  spectator.  Such  a  mocking  mask — the  reference 
is  to  the  King's  denial  of  Byron's  claims — 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  and  involved  style. 

V,  ii,  22.  The  dead  noises  of  my  sword  :  the  past  noises  (i.e.  battles)  of  my 
sword. 

V,  ii,  81-2.    A  reminiscence,  as  Cunliffe  has  pointed  out,  of  Seneca: 

da  tempus  ac  spatium  tibi: 
quod  ratio  non  quit  saepe  sanavit  mora. 

Agamemnon,  11.  129-30. 

V,  ii,  45-9.  Pliny,  Natural  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 
1  of  a  cold  and  deadly  quality,  which  distils  from  a  rock  in  the  territory  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 
Vulgar  Errors,  Book  VII,  17. 

V,  Hi,  52-5.  The  city  of  Elis  had  a  general  control  of  the  Olympic  games. 
The  judges  were  chosen  by  lot  from  the  whole  body  of  Elean  citizens,  and 
an  appeal  from  their  decisions  might  be  carried  to  the  Elean  senate. 

V,  ii,  102.  The  short  madness  of  my  anger :  a  commonplace  which  goes  back 
at  least  as  far  as  Horace : 

Ira  furor  brevis  est. 

Epistles  I,  ii,  62. 

V,  ii,  134.     To  hunt  down :   i.e.  to  weaken,  to  flag. 
V,  ii,  152-8.    This  boast  of  the  Duke  is  twice  mentioned  by  Grimeston,  who 

adds  (p.  930),'  but  he  lost  all  Savoy  in  less  than  forty  days  '. 
V,  ii,  157.     Balloon  ;    a  game  played  with  a  large  inflated  ball  which  was 
C.P.w,  R  R 


6io  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

struck  back  and  forth  by  the  arms  of  the  players  defended  by  a  bracer  of 
wood. 

V,  ii,  180-2.  There  is  probably  a  reference  here  to  Henry's  amour  with  the 
beautiful  Gabrielle  D'Estrees,  to  whom  he  is  said  to  have  been  first  intro 
duced  by  her  lover,  Bellegarde,  as  a  diversion  between  two  battles.  Sully 
(Memoirs,  Book  IV)  relates  that  Henry  once  disguised  himself  as  a  peasant 
and  passed  through  a  hostile  army  to  Visit  his  mistress. 

V,  ii,  181.     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 
gifts.  He  also  gave  presents  '  to  all  the  cheefe  in  Court,  who  accepted 
them  with  the  King's  permission  :  only  the  Duke  Biron  refused  the  horses 
that  he  sent  unto  him  '  (Grimeston,  p.  882,  cf.  11.  185-92). 

V,  ii,  197.  These  articles  are  given  in  full  by  Grimeston,  p.  891.  The  sub 
stance  of  the  treaty  was  that  Savoy  might  retain  Saluces  by  ceding  the 
district  of  Bresse  to  France. 

V,  ii,  211.     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  yield,  i.e.  reward'. 

BYRON'S  TRAGEDY 
DRAMATIS  PERSONAE 

The  characters  in  this  play  are  in  the  main  the  same  as  those  of  the  Con 
spiracy  ;  a  few  new  figures  are,  however,  introduced. 

The  infant  Dauphin,  afterwards  Louis  XIII,  born  September  27,  1601. 

The  Spanish  Ambassador,  Taxis. 

Montigny,  a  nobleman  at  whose  lodging  Biron  supped  immediately  before 
his  arrest. 

D'Escures.  Cayet  (p.  288  6)  calls  him  '  the  intimate  friend  and  servant 
of  the  Marshal ',  i.e.  Biron. 

Harlay,  Achille  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  Parliament,  and  Councillor 
of  State,  also  a  member  of  the  commission. 

Fleury,  Stephen  de  Fleury,  Councillor  of  the  Parliament,  who  acted  as 
reporter  of  the  process  against  Biron. 

Pralin,  a  captain  of  the  King's  guard.  He  was  charged  to  arrest  Biron, 
but  exchanged  this  commission  with  Vitry.  (See  Cayet,  p.  291,  andMatthieu, 
II,  P-  127.) 

La  Brunei.  I  do  not  find  this  name  in  Grimeston,  but  I  believe  it  occurs  in 
Cayet's  Histoire  Septenaire.  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.  Garnier,  the  King's  preacher,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Montpellier, 
attended  Biron  in  the  Bastille.  Grimeston  (p.  972)  records  that  Biron  was 
also  visited  by  the  Archbishop  of  Bourges  during  the  first  days  of  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,  23  and  171. 

Mademoiselle  D'Entragnes,  Henrietta  de  Balzac,  half-sister  of  the  Duke 
of  Auvergne  and  mistress  of  Henry  IV. 

Cupid.  The  part  of  Cupid  in  this  masque,  which  was  played  at  Court  in 
the  winter  of  1602,  was  taken  by  the  Duke  of  Vendome,  Henry's  son  by 
Gabrielle  D'Estrees. 

I,  i,  fr-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). 
I,  i,  31.    Fuentes,  commanding  for  the  King  of  Spain  in  Milan.     He  and  the 

Duke  of   Savoy  were   in  secret  correspondence  with   Eiron,  hoping   to 

provoke  a  civil  war  ia  France. 


NOTES  611 

I,  i,  62.  To  move  proof :  more  satisfactorily,  in  such  a  way  that  it  will  be  proof 
against  change. 

I,  i,  74-88.  This  offer  and  Byron's  answer,  both  taken  from  Grimeston, 
p.  959,  belong  to  a  somewhat  earlier  period. 

I,  i,  94-5.  La  Fin's  pretended  pilgrimage  to  Loretto,  famous  for  the  Santa 
Casa  brought  by  angels  from  Nazareth  to  Italy,  was  in  reality  a  mission 
on  the  part  of  Biron  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. 

I,  i,  97.  A  crystal  that  is  charmed,  i.e.  the  magic  ball  of  crystal  which  reveals 
the  future. 

I,  i,  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  skill  and  personal 
bravery  were  his  most  striking  qualities,  and  at  Coutras,  Arques,  Ivry,  and 
Fontaine  Francaise — to  mention  no  others — he  played  the  part  of  a 
skilful  general  and  a  brave  soldier. 

I,  101-2.  The  nook  is  probably  Navarre,  Henry's  original  kingdom.  The 
king  is  Henry  III  of  France. 

I,  i,  111.  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 
Crowne  and  People '.  The  noble  speech  which  follows  these  lines  is 
entirely  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. 

I,  i,  120.  The  halcyon's  birth :  a  reference  to  the  legend  of  Alcyone.  After 
her  husband's  death  in  a  shipwreck,  she  so  lamented  him  that  the  gods 
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  hiberno  tempore  septem 
Incubat  Alcyone  pendentibus  aequore  nidis 
Turn  via  tuta  maris,  ventos  custodit  et  arcet 
Aeolus  egressu,  praestat  nepotibus  aequor. 

Metamorph.  XI,  745-8. 

I,  i,  124.    This  line  is  deficient,  or  perhaps  corrupt,  in  the  original.    See  Text 

Notes,  p.  626,  for  a  further  discussion. 
I,  i,  141-4.     Compare  Caesar  and  Pompey,  II,  iv,  136-42,  a  passage  which 

enables  us  to  restore  the  text  here. 
I,  ii,  5.     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  conclusion  of  the  treaty  of  Vervins. 
I,  ii,  36.     Camillus  :  the  reference  is  to  his  saving  Rome  after  the  capture  of 

the  city  by  the  Gauls. 
I,  ii,  45.     Wind :  used  here,  I  think,  in  the  sense  of  spirit ;  for  a  discussion  of 

the  text  see  Text  notes,  p.  626. 
I,  ii,  54.     Anvils  that  are  lin'd  with  wool :  cf.  The  Duchess  of  Malfi,  III,  ii, 

328-30. 

A  politician  is  the  devil's  quilted  anvil  ; 
He  fashions  all  sins  on  him,  and  the  blows 
Are  never  heard. 

The  reference  is  evidently  to  some  method  of  muffling  an  anvil. 
I,  ii,  62-6.     These  terms  were  agreed  upon  between  Savoy,  Fuentes,  and  La 
Fin,  as  Biron's  representative,  at  a  conference  reported  by  Grimeston 
p.  961. 


6i2   THE   CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

I,  ii,  69-99.  Immediately  before  going  to  the  King  La  Fin  notified  Biron  that 
he  had  been  summoned  and  requested  instructions  as  to  what  he  should 
say.  Byron's  speeches,  11.  72-88  and  93-9,  are  built  up  of  phrases  from 
Grimeston,  p.  963.!  So  far  from  following  these  instructions  La  Fin  at 
once  betrayed  Biron  to  the  King ;  cf.  the  following  scene. 

I,  iii.  This  scene  represents  the  conference  at  Fontainebleau  after  La  Fin's 
betrayal  of  Biron,  at  which  Henry  determined  to  call  the  Duke  to  Court, 
but  in  such  a  manner  that  he  would  not  suspect  the  conspiracy  to  have  been 
discovered.  It  is  largely  built  up  on  hints  and  phrases  from  Grimeston, 
pp.  963,  965-6. 

I,  iii,  3-3.  These  lines  are  taken  verbally  from  a  later  passage  in  Grimeston, 
p.  970.  Biron's  zeal  against  the  Huguenots  was  apparently  a  mere  cloak 
to  conceal  his  ambitious  designs,  and  to  unite  him  more  closely  with  such 
bigoted  Catholics  as  Fuentes  and  the  Duke  of  Savoy.  The  Chancellor's 
remark  on  his  jesting  at  all  religions,  11.  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  of  the  Reformed  Religion '. 

I.  iii,  51-2.  These  lines  are  in  italics  in  the  original  to  call  attention  to  the 
apothegm. 

I,  iii,  64.  My  Constable :  Henry  Duke  of  Montmorency,  named  Constable  of 
France  by  Henry  IV  in  1593. 

I,  iii,  69-75.  Pieces  :  the  papers  revealing  the  conspiracy.  Grimeston,  p.  963, 
says  :  '  Of  many  papers  which  La  Fin  presented  unto  the  King,  they  made 
choice  of  27  peeces  :  which  were  not  those  that  concluded  most  against 
the  Duke  of  Biron,  but  which  made  mention  onely  of  him,  the  King 
being  unwilling  to  have  the  rest  [i.e.  of  the  conspirators]  discovered,  to 
the  end  that  the  punishment  of  one  might  serve  as  an  example  to  all '. 
This  passage  enables  us  to  restore  the  true  text. 

I,  iii,  102.     With  the  exit  of  Janin  comes  the  gap  in  the  text  alluded  to  in  the 

Introduction  to  these  plays.  There  is  no  sign  of  such  a  gap  in  the  quartos 
which  continue  with  the  stage  direction  Enter  Esper,  etc.,  except 
that  at  the  close  of  the  masque  we  find  Pints  Actus  Secundi.  Evidently 
the  close  of  the  first  act  and  the  beginning  of  the  second  were  cut  away  by 
the  censor.  5 

II,  i,  5.     Arden.     See  note  on  Revenge  of  Bussy,  III,  ii,  152. 

II,  i,  15-8.  These  .two  Virtues  :  the  leading  ladies  in  the  masque,  Marie  de 
Medici  as  Chastity,  and  Henriette  D'Entragues  as  Liberality. 

II,  i,  31-50.  The  description  of  Cupid  sporting  in  a  lady's  bosom  and  lighting 
his  torches  at  her  eyes  inevitably  recalls  the  charming  lyrics  Rosalind's 
Madrigal  and  Rosalind's  Description  in  Lodge's  Rosalynd  or  Euphues' 
Golden  Legacy.  The  account  of  Cupid's  playing  for  a  lady's  kisses  and  losing 
his  arrows  to  her  is  from  Lyly's  best  known  song,  Cupid  and  my  Campaspe. 

II,  i,  38.  The  shepherd's  flute  of  reeds  invented  by  Pan,  the  god  of  shepherds, 
was  but  a  poor  rustic  instrument  compared  with  the  lyre  of  the  Sun-god, 
Apollo. 

II,  i,  48.  Penny-prick :  an  old  gambling  game,  mentioned  as  early  as  1421. 
It  seems  to  have  consisted  of  tossing  pennies,  or  counters,  at  a  mark. 

II,  i,  53.     This  fair  nymph  :   Henriette  D'Entragues. 

II,  i,  65.  Pray  the  press,  etc. :  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  evolutions  of  the  dance.  In  The  Gentleman  Usher, 
II,  i,  226,  we  find  the  presenter  of  a  masque  crying  '  a  Hall,  a  Hall '  to 
obtain  the  necessary  space  for  his  performers. 

II,  i,  88-94.  Riddles,  especially  riddles  with  an  ambiguous  sense,  seem  to  have 
been  very  popular  at  this  time.  A  number  of  them  may  be  found  in  Le 
Piacevoli  Notti  of  Giovanni  Straparola. 

I  cannot  agree  with  Fleay  (Biog.  Chron.  vol.  i,  p.  64)  and  Koeppel  (loc. 
cit.  p.  31)  that  the  passage  dealing  with  this  riddle,  11.  66-124,  was  inserted 
to  fill  the  gap  caused  by  the  censor.  It  is  evident  that  this  omission  took 
plact  before  the  Masque,  see  11.  18-19,  55-6o,  which  figured  the  recon. 

i  The  edition  of  1607  misprints  941. 


NOTES  613 


cilement  of  the  Queen  and  Henrietta.  In  Bussy,  III,  ii,  a  Somewhat 
similar  riddle  occurs  where  there  is  no  question  of  any  omission. 

tl,  i,  110-1.  Non  forma,  etc. :  *  It  is  not  the  form  [i.e.  the  bodily  person]  but 
the  fame  [of  a  good  woman]  that  ought  to  appear  in  public.' 

HI,  i.  I  have  laid  this  scene  at  Dijon,  since  it  represents  the  conversations 
held  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.  965-6,  but  a  larger  part  than  usual  is  Chapman's  own. 

Ill,  i,  2-9.  The  reference  is,  no  doubt,  to  Machiavelli's  Prince,  considered  in 
Chapman's  time  the  compendium  of  all  state-craft. 

Ill,  i,  10-24.  The  story  of  the  laurel  let  fall  in  Livia's  lap  is  told  by 
Pliny,  who  includes  a  detail  omitted  by  Chapman,  that  this  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. 

m,  i,  88.  By  Liberty  Chapman  no  doubt  means  the  liberty  of  rebellion  for 
conscience  sake  against  the  royal  power,  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  little  in  whose  mouth  he  placed  it. 

HE,  i,  62-85.  The  speeches  of  D'Escures  and  Byron's  answer  are  taken  direct 
from  Grimeston,  pp.  965-6. 

:in,  i,  116-121.  The  speeches  of  La  Brunei  here  and  later  (1L  236-47)  are  taken 
almost  verbally  from  Grimeston,  p.  966. 

.ffl,  i,  124-5.  '  I  am  not  one  of  those  petty  provincial  nobles  whom  any  king's 
messenger  may  lead  unresisting  to  the  scaffold '. 

Ill,  i,  127-9.  The  blackthorn,  or  sloe,  blossoms  in  early  spring  before  its 
leaves  appear.  Possibly  there  is  a  reference  here  to  the  legendary  thorn 
of  Glastonbury,  which  was  said  to  blossom  at  Christmas.  Habington, 
Castara,  II,  A  Dialogue  between  A  rap  hill  and  Castara,  has  a  passage 
curiously  like  Chapman's  : 

•  vL  Love  shall  in  that  tempestuous  showere 

'•+!%  Her  brightest  blosome  like  the  blackthorne  shome : 

Weake  friendship  prospers  by  the  power 
Of  fortunes  Sunne.    Vie  in  her  winter  growe. 

Chapman  himself  repeats  this  simile  in  the  Epistle  Dedicatory  prefixed 
to  his  Crown  of  All  Homer's  Works,  1624  : 

Like  to  the  hatching  of  the  blackthorn's  spring, 
With  bitter  frosts  and  smarting  hailstorms,  forth. 

Poems,  p.  250. 

TO,  i,  143-5.  The  ancient  Egyptians  determined  the  exact  length  of  the 
year  by  the  heliacal  rising  of  Sirius,  i.e.  the  star's  appearance  before  sunrise. 
ThisJDCcurs  in  July,  called  the  Lion's  month,  because  the  sun  then  enters 
t&e  sign  of  the  Lion  in  the  zodiac. 

Ill,  i,  151-2.  Chapman's  translation  of  a  passage  in  the  Odyssey  I,  52,  seq., 
shows  that  he  held  the  view  that  Atlas  supported  the  earth  as  well  as  the 
heaven  : 

Atlas  ...  stays 
The  two  steep  columns  that  prop  earth  and  heaven. 

The  reference  to  Alcides  going  under  the  earth  refers  to  the  time  when 

Hercules  assumed  the  load  of  Atlas. 

HI,  i,  159.     '  To  make  him,  i.e.  the  King,  wait,  i.e.  till  he  sees  me,  Byron  '. 
HI,  i,  168.     Cf.  Revenge  of  Bussy,  I,  ii,  25. 
Ill,  i,  179-80.     Cf.  The  Conspiracy,  I,  ii,  145-6. 
Ill,  i,  184-94.    The  reference  is  to  the  King  of  Spain,  his  American  gold  mines, 

and  the  so-called  Invincible  Armada.     Chapman  seems  to  see  a  bias- 


614  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

phemous  comparison  with  the  Deity  in  the  Spanish  assumption  of  this 
title  which  like  '  omnipotent '  should  be  reserved  for  God.  I  do  not  feel 
sure  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,  of  a  kingdom, 
to  the  contriving  of  war  or  murder. 

Ill,  i,  201.     I  do  not  feel  sure  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  phrase  laying  out. 
It  is  evidently  meant  as  an  antithesis  to  bearing,  and  so  may  p'erhaps 
be  taken  in  the  sense  of  '  struggling,  laying  about  one  '. 

Ill,  i,  227.  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  banisrJ 
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  Fin 
was  returned  to  his  house  contented  and  freed  from  all  distrust  (Grimeston, 
p.  966  ;  cf.  11.  250-51). 

Ill,  i,  261-6.     Byron's  boast  is  taken  direct  from  Grimeston,  p.  966. 

Ill,  ii.  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  unnatural  a  con- 
spiracie',  Grimeston,  p.  963.  LI.  40-54  also  are  almost  verbal  repro 
ductions  of  a  passage  in  Grimeston,  p.  964. 

Ill,  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  upon 
another  source  than  Grimeston.  Biron  had,  I  think,  no  brother  living ; 
the  reference  here  and  in  V,  iv,  231,  is  to  his  brothers-in-law,  La  Force 
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. 

Ill,  ii,  63-4.  Holy  Writ :  see  Matthew  xxi,  29.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that 
Chapman  is  as  little  scrupulous  of  accuracy  in  his  biblical  as  in  his  classical 
allusions.  The  '  son '  of  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  '. 

Ill,  ii,  67.  The  bad  ground:  the  treasonous  correspondence  with  foreign 
enemies  that  lay  beneath,  and  was  the  cause  of,  Byron's  contempt  of  the 
King's  summons. 

HI,  ii,  69.  The  subject  of  Be,  i.e.  '  it ',  is  omitted,  as  is  not  infrequently  the 
case  in  Chapman. 

Ill,  ii,  71-2.     Byron's  haughty  reply  is  taken  verbally  from  Grimeston,  p.  967. 

Ill,  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 
4  as  the  father  doth  his  lost  child  whom  he  hath  found  again '. 

III,  ii,  128-31.     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,  i.    This  scene  is  mainly  original.     An  occasional  borrowing  from  Grimeston 
will  be  pointed  out. 

IV,  i,  1-24.  With  this  philippic  against  the  base  fruits  of  a  settled  peace,  cf.  a 
similar  outbreak  in  The  Revenge  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  James  I.  Professor  Koeppel  (loc.  cit.)  sees  a  close 
resemblance  between  this  speech,  especially  11.  8-19,  and  the  famous 
speech  of  Ulysses  on  'degree'  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  I,  ili,  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  indicated  in 
11.  25-36  is  a  reminiscence  of  Troilus  and  Cressida,  III,  iii.  But  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,  11.  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,  Fables,  IV,  10. 

XV,  i,  87-66.  The  interview  between  Soissons  and  Byron  is  mentioned  by 
Grimeston,  p.  967,  whence  11.  55-6  are  taken  almost  verbally. 

IV,  i,  47-9.  Their  impair,  i.e.  the  loss  of  Byron'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,  62.  Stygian  flood,  flood  of  hate,  with  reference  to  the  hate  which  Byron 
assumes  has  moved  his  enemies  to  denounce  him  to  the  King. 

IV,  i,  84.     Cf.  the  note  on  Bussy,  I,  i,  86-7. 

IV,  i,  94-105.    This  conversation  is  expanded  from  Grimeston,  p.  968. 

IV,  i,  113-80.  These  portents  are  from  Grimeston,  p.  966.  The  duck  is 
a  curious  mistake  of  Grimeston's,  followed  by  Chapman.  The  original 
(Matthieu,  vol.  2,  p  123)  has  '  un  oyseau  qu'on  }appelle  Due  '.  But  the 
'  Due '  is  a  sort  of  owl,  a  much  more  likely  bird  of  ill  omen  than  a  wild 
duck.  The  suggestion  in  Furnivall's  Fresh  Allusions  to  Shakespeare,  p.  49 
that  the  madness  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. 

IV,  i,  125.     Left  your  strength :   left  your  strong  position  on  the  frontier  to 


go  to  the  King. 
M. 


IV,  i,  128.     Vimy,  a  little  town  in  North-eastern  France  near  Arras. 

IV,  i,  146.     By  conversion  :  conversely. 

IV,  ii.  This  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  from  Grimeston,  p.  970,  where  it  occurs  after  Biron's  arrest,  while 
the  allusion  in  1.  30  to  Alexander  and  Parmenio  occurs  in  Grimeston  on 
p.  968  before  the  arrest. 

IV,  ii,  15.     Marshal,  pronounced  here  as  a  word  of  three  syllables. 

IV,  ii,  80.  Parmenio  :  the  Latinized  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  procedure  was  suggested  to  Henry  IV  in  Biron's 
case,  and  rejected  by  him,  for  11.  31-47  are  taken  straight  from  Grimeston, 
p.  968. 

IV,  ii,  43.  The  devilish  heads  of  treason :  '  power  and  authority  to  roote  out 
by  the  forme  of  Justice,  not  the  Authors  of  such  a  Conspiracie,  for  they  be 
Devils,  but  the  Complices  and  instruments ',  Grimeston,  p.  968. 

IV,  ii,  63-85.  This  fine  speech  is  essentially  Chapman's  own.  There  is  no 
hint  of  it  in  Grimeston,  except  the  statement  that  Henry  prayed  to  God  to 
assist  him  with  His  Holy  Spirit,  p.  969. 

IV,  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.  115-64),  and  his  game  of  cards  in  the  Queen's  chamber  with 
its  interruptions,  11. 91-5  and  197-9-  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  Chapman's 
love  of  flying  contrary  to  the  opinions  of  his  countrymen  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  Clermont's  apology  for  the  Massacre 
of  St.  Bartholomew  in  the  Revenge  of  Bussy,  II,  i,  199-231- 


616  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

IV,  ii,  94.  You  four.  '  There  played  at  Primero  the  Queene,  the  Duke  of 
Biron,  and  two  others ',  Grimeston,  p.  969. 

Primero :  an  old,  and  once  very  popular  game  of  cards.  Shakespeare 
represents  Henry  VIII  playing  at  primero  (Hen.  VIII,  V,  i,  7).  An  account 
of  the  game  is  given  in  Strutt,  Sports  and  Pastimes,  Book  IV,  chap.  II,  §  24. 

IV,  ii,  98-100,  107.  With  the  puns  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,  122-3.  '  He  fel  to  commend  the  deceased  King  of  Spaine,  his  Piety, 
Justice,  and  Liberality  ',  Grimeston,  p.  968. 

IV,  ii,  124.  The  little  .  .  .  Macedon  :  Alexander  the  Great,  called '  little '  on 
account  of  his  short  stature.  The  eulogy  which  follows,  11.  125-132,  is 
from  Plutarch,  De  A  lexandri  Magni  For  tuna  aut  Virtute,I,v.  I  quote  the 
Latin  text : 

Alexandri  doctrinam  si  inspicias,  Hyrcanos  docuit  conjugiis  uti :  Arachosios 
agricultumm :  Sogdiams  persuasit,  ut  alerent,  non  inter  fic-erent,  patres  : 
Persas  ut  venerarentur,  non  uxorum  loco  haberent,  matres.  O  admirabilem 
philosophiam  /  qnae  fecit,  ut  Indi  deos  Graecorum  colerent,  et  Scythes  mortuos 
humarcnt,  non,  ut  ante,  comederent. 

IV,  ii,  143-50.  Adapted  from  the  eulogy  of  Alexander  in  Plutarch  De  Alex. 
Mag.  etc.,  Oratio  II,  xi.  "  Certamen,  cujus  finis  esset  non  aurum  abinnumeris 
circumferendum  camelis,  non  luxus  Medicus,  mensae  et  mulieres,  neque 
vinum  Chalybonium  aut  Hyrcanici  pisces:  sea  ut  omnes  homines  in 
unam  reipublicce  constitutionem  redigens,  omnes  uni  principatui  subditos, 
uni  vita  ratiom  assuefaceret. 

Chalybonian  wine  was  the  chosen  drink  of  the  King  of  Persia.  Holland, 
in  his  translation  of  Plutarch's  Morals  (p.  1283,  edition  1603)  speaks  in 
this  passage  of  'the  good  and  pleasant  wines  of  Calydonia'.  The  text 
used  by  Holland  and  Chapman  must  have  read  Calydonium. 

IV,  ii,  156-62.  '  The  greatest  commendation  they  could  give  unto  his  memory 
[Philip  the  Second's],  was  to  have  put  his  owne  Sonne  to  death  for  that 
he  had  attempted  to  trouble  his  Estates  ',  Grimeston,  p.  968.  The  refer 
ence,  of  course,  is  to  Don  Carlos,  the  oldest  son  of  Philip,  who  died  in  the 
prison  to  which  his  father  had  committed  him.  It  was  generally  believed 
that  he  had  been  executed  there  by  his  father's  orders.  Grimeston,  p.  823, 
says  he  was  strangled  with  a  cord  of  silk. 

IV,  ii,  166-70.  These  lines,  with  the  exception  of  the  first,  are  a  translation 
of  Seneca,  Oedipus,  504-8 : 

Lucida  dum  current  annosi  sidera  mundi, 
Oceanus  clausum  dum  fluctibus  ambiet  orbem 
Lunaque  dimissos  dum  plena  recolliget  ignes, 
Dum  matutinos  praedicet  Lucifer  ortus 
Altaque  caerulum  dum  Nerea  nesciet  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  of  the 
Odyssey,  I,  52,  ssq.  :  '  In  this  place  is  Atlas  given  the  epithet  b\o6<f>ptav, 
which  signifies  qui  universa  mente  agitat,  here  given  him  for  the  power  the 
stars  have  in  all  things  '.  Hence,  I  suppose,  learned  as  knowing  the 
secrets  of  the  stars. 

IV.,  ii,  172-95.  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  for 
him,  and  '  walked  up  and  down  the  chamber,  whilst  the  Duke  of  Biron 
drempt  of  nothing  but  his  game  '. 

IV,  ii,  196-201.  '  Varennes,  Lieutenant  of  his  [Biron's]  company,  making  a 
shewe  to  take  up  his  Cloake,  told  him  in  his  eare,  That  he  was  undon.  This 
word  troubled  him  so  as  he  neglected  his  game.  The  Queene  observed  it, 
and  told  him  '  That  he  had  misreckoned  himself e  to  his  owne  losse.'  The 


NOTES  617 

king  said  :   That  they  had  plaid  ynough,  commanding  every  man  to  retire. ' 

Grimeston,  p.  969. 
IV,  ii,  201-26.    This  last  appeal  of  the  King  to  Byron  to  confess  is  expanded 

by  Chapman  from  the  brief  account  in  Grimeston,  p.  969,  of  Henry's  final 

interview  with  the  Duke  in  his  cabinet. 
IV,  ii,  226-8,    As  Cunliffe  (loc.  cit.,  pp.  96-7)  has  pointed  out  this  speech  is 

adapted  from  Seneca,  Oedipus  : 

Odere  reges  dicta  quae  diet  jubent. 

1.  520. 
and 

Ubi  turpis  est  medicina,  sanari  piget. 

1-  5i7- 

IV,  ii,  229-49.  Biron  was  arrested  by  Vitry  as  he  came  out  of  the  King's 
cabinet  after  the  interview  mentioned  above.  Byron's  speech,  11.  230-9, 
is  almost  verbally  from  Grimeston,  p.  969,  as  is  his  following  speech, 
11.  241-9. 

IV,  ii,  260-66.  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  top  violent  in  its  abuse  of  Byron 
and  too  lavish  in  self-praise,  as  Chapman  himself  seems  to  have  noticed ; 
via.  11.  263-5. 

IV,  ii,  268.  The  intelligencing  lights  :  the  stars  which  govern  men's  destinies. 
In  the  word  intelligencing  is  implied  the  sense  of  '  spying  out ',  '  in 
forming  ',  which  is  further  brought  out  in  the  next  lines.  Cf.  the  phrase 
4  intelligencing  ears  ',  White  Devil,  III,  ii,  228. 

IV,  ii,  278.  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,  ii,  282.  Byron  calls  his  captors  the  slavish  instruments  of  the  stars  which 
have  doomed  him  to  this  fate.  In  the  next  breath  he  wishes  that  he  might 
drag  down  and  trample  out  the  stars. 

IV,  ii,  290.  Biron  actually  used  these  words  as  he  was  being  led  away, 
apparently  with  the  wish  to  create  sympathy  for  himself,  as  if  suffering  on 
account  of  his  zeal  for  the  Catholic  faith. 

IV,  ii,  294.  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,  ii,  298-302.    This  flippant  speech  of  D'Auvergne's  is  taken  verbally  from 
Grimeston,  p.  969.    The  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,  i.    This  scene  is  composed  of  the  account  given  in  Grimeston  (pp.  970-2)  of 
Henry's  interview  with  Taxis,  the  Spanish  Ambassador,  of  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  his  source. 

V,  i,  6-7.     Count  Maurice:  Maurice  of  Nassau,  son  of  William  the  Silent. 

Ostend:   the  siege  of  Ostend,  1601-4,  was,  perhaps,  the  most  famous  in 

an  age  of  sieges.     It  was  finally  taken  by  the  Spanish  under  the  Archduke 

Albert,  as  the  attempt  of  Maurice  to  relieve  it,  mentioned  in  L  7,  was 

unsuccessful. 
V,  i,  21-2.    The  newly-won  provinces  of  Bresse  and  Burgundy  were  supposed 

to  be  full  of  Biron's  friends.     They  submitted,  however,   to  the   King 

without  a  struggle. 
V,  i,  36.     Professor  Koeppel  (he.  cit.)  declares  that  Chapman    has  made  a 

geographical  blunder  here  in  mistaking  the  Rhone  for  a  place,  or  town. 

But  it  is  hardly  possible  that  Chapman  was  unaware  that  the  Rhdne,  so 

famous  in  classical  as  well  as  modern   times,  was  a  river.     I   fancy  that 


6x8  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

Chapman's  use  of  the  phrase  the  river  that  runs  by  Rhosne,  instead  of 
Grimeston's '  the  River  of  Rhosne',  was  simply  due  to  a  desire  to  fill  out  a  line. 

V,  i,  37-47.  These  lines  are  taken  directly  from  Grimeston,  p.  971  ;  the  rest 
of  the  speech,  except  11.  66-8  is  Chapman's  comment  on  the  situation. 

V,  i,  75.  Some  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, 
p.  970,  who  in  turn  gets  it  from  Matthieu  (vol.  2,  p.  129  6).  But  where 
Matthieu  and  Grimeston  use  the  phrase  I'un  apres  Vautre, '  one  after  another ' 
(referring  perhaps  to  the  old  fable  of  breaking  the  sticks  separately  which 
could  not  be  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. 

V,  i,  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. 

V,  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.  972,  '  He 
[Biron]  spent  the  first  days  of  his  imprisonment  without  eating  or  sleeping  '. 
The  fine  simile  of  the  wild  bird,  11.  118-26,  is  Chapman's  own  ;  but  the 
close  of  the  speech  is  again  from  Grimeston,  p.  972  :  '  they  should  not 
bragge  they  had  made  him  to  feare  death  ;  that  they  should  speedily 
drinke  themselves  drunke  with  the  bloud  which  remained  of  thirty  and 
five  woundes,  which  he  had  received  for  the  service  of  France '. 

V,  ii.  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 
they  occur. 

V,  ii,  9.  The  Marquis  of  Rosny :  Henry's  famous  councillor,  better  known 
as  the  Duke  of  Sully.  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  interesting  light  upon  these  events. 

V,  ii,  24-42.  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. 

V,  ii,  41.     The  bloody  cassocks  :  i.e.  the  scarlet  uniforms  of  Spanish  soldiers. 

V,  ii,  46.  These  five  principal  charges  as  rehearsed  in  the  following  lines  are 
taken  almost  verbally  from  Grimeston,  p.  975. 

V,  ii,  61.  St.  Katherine's  fort:  a  stronghold  in  Savoy,  two  leagues  from 
Geneva.  It  was  taken  by  Henry  IV  in  the  war  of  1600. 

V,  ii,  67-107.  Byron's  answer  to  the  charges  is  also  taken  directly  from 
Grimeston,  pp.  975-6. 

V,  ii,  72.  La  Fortune,  a  soldier  in  the  civil  wars  of  France  who  seized  on  the 
town  of  Seurre  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. 

V,  ii,  80.     La  Force,  Biron's  brother-in-law.     See  note  on  III,  ii,  56. 

V,  ii,  107-12.    This  passage  is  taken  directly  from  Grimeston,  p.  976. 

V,  ii,  118-9.  This  question  and  answer  are  taken  from  Grimeston,  p,  973, 
where  Biron  is  represented  as  being  confronted  with  his  accuser  before 
the  formal  trial. 

V,  ii,  141.     The  isle :   Great  Britain. 

V,  ii,  158-88.  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  Grimeston,  p.  985,  and  represents  the  original  French,  '  me  mordoit 
Voreille  '  (Matthieu,  vol.  2,  p.  156).  This  phrase,  according  to  Cotgrave, 


NOTES  619 

means  '  as  much  as  flatter  ou  caresser  mignonment,  wherein  the  biting  of  the 
ear  is,  with  some,  an  usual  Action '. 

V,  ii,  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. 

V,  ii,  178-271.  Byron's  long  speech  in  his  own  defence  is  a  curious  mosaic 
of  bits  from  Grimeston,  reminiscences  of  Chapman's  classical  reading,  and 
original  lines.  The  passage  11.  206-29  is  from  Biron's  speech  in  Grimeston, 
p.  977.  The  catalogue  of  Pompey's  victories,  11.  234-47,  is  taken  direct 
from  Plutarch,  De  Fortuna  Romanorum,  ii.  LI.  250-60  are  an  expansion 
of  the  opening  sentence  of  Biron's  speech  in  Grimeston. 

V,  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,  266-9.  The  reference  is  to  the  attack  on  the  Parliament  of  Paris  by 
the  fanatical  Leaguers  of  the  Seize  in  1591,  when  the  President  and  two 
councillors  were  summarily  executed.  The  Parliament  was  re-established 
by  Henry  IV  on  his  entry  into  Paris  in  1594,  and  Byron  here  arrogates 
to  himself  the  credit  of  this  fact. 

V,  ii,  272-4.  Biron  was  allowed  to  speak  at  such  length  that  the  judges 
had  not  tune  to  pronounce  their  opinions  that  day,  but  were  obliged  to 
send  him  back  to  the  Bastille  unsentenced. 

V,  ii,  276-805.  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  Manlius,  11.  292-4,  and  to  the  Scotch  Guard  of  Louis  XI, 
11.  300-4,  are  both  in  the  original,  along  with  many  other  classical,  historical, 
and  scriptural  allusions  which  Chapman  has  mercifully  spared  us. 

V,  iii.  This  scene,  like  the  following,  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 — very 
closely,  but  introduces  in  his  usual  fashion  classical  borrowings  and  com 
ments  of  his  own. 

V,  iii,  1-40.  Byron's  vain  hope  that  he  had  been  acquittec  and  his  boast 
as  to  his  speech  before  the  Court  come  from  Grimeston,  p.  979  :  '  he  con 
ceived  .  .  .  that  he  had  answered  the  Chancellor  to  all  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,  Behold  a  wicked  Man,  he  is  dangerous  in  the  State, 
we  must  dispatch  him,  he  deserves  death.  Which  words  never  came  out 
of  his  mouth  [cf.  1.  33]  .  .  .  He  thought  not  to  die,  saying  that  they  could 
not  supplie  his  place,  if  he  were  dead.  .  .  .  Sometimes  he  would  say,  7s  it 
possible  the  King  should  bee  so  vaine,  as  to  make  him  to  apprehend  death, 
and  to  think  to  terrific  him  therewithal '. 

V,  iii,  18-4.  With  this  comparison  of  the  cedar  and  the  box-tree,  cf.  Sir  Giles 
Goosecap,  III,  ii,  100-3.  Chapman  here,  as  in  Bussy,  IV,  i,  91,  uses  the 
box-tree  as  a  metaphor  for  a  low  estate  or  place. 

V,  iii,  17.     The  budget :   probably,  with  a  reference  to  the  hangman's  bag. 

V,  iii,  68-6.  '  At  the  King's  bidding  the  rough  thunder  folds  his  wings  and 
becomes  as  smooth  as  painted  glass.' 

V,  iii,  68.  Bacon,  Apothegms,  No.  263,  '  Democritus  said  that  truth  did  lie  in 
profound  pits  '.  Cf .  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  dark  than  Nature  made  her.  Poems,  p.  238. 

V,  iii,  73.  The  old  texts  give  this  line  to  Sist[er],  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  OF  BYRON 

Grimeston,  p.  983,  following  Matthieu,  says  that  Biron  heard  '  the  cries 
and  lamentations  of  a  woman '  and  thought  they  were  for  him.  Cayet 
(p.  308  b)  says  :  '  la  Damoiselle  femme  de  Rumigny  [concierge  of  the 
Bastille]  se  prist  a  pleurer  les  mains  joinctes  '. 

V,  iii,  74-76.  These  lines  contain  an  incident  that  occurred  on  the  day 
before ;  see  Grimeston,  p.  983.  Biron  saw  from  his  prison  window  '  a 
great  multitude  of  Parisians  about  St.  Anthonie's  gate '  and  believed  they 
came  to  see  his  execution.  A  lieutenant  of  the  guard  told  him  it  was  to 
see  certain  gentlemen  fight. 

V,  iii,  79-82.  This  question  and  answer  occur  in  Grimeston,  pp.  993-4,  after 
the  account  of  Biron's  death  and  in  immediate  connexion  with  the  story 
of  the  Duke's  visit  to  La  Brosse :  '  He  had  conference  with  one  Caesar, 
who  was  a  magician  at  Paris,  who  told  him,  that  only  a  back-blow  of  the 
Bourguignon  would  keepe  him  from  being  a  King.  He  remembered  this  pre 
diction  beeing  a  Prisoner  in  the  Bastille,  and  intreated  one  that  went  to 
visit  him,  to  learne  if  the  Executioner  of  Paris  were  a  Bourguignon,  and 
having  found  it  so,  he  said,  /  am  a  dead  man'. 

V,  iii,  83-91.  Biron  saw  from  his  window  the  Chancellor  crossing  the  court 
yard  of  the  Bastille,  and  realizing  that  he  had  come  to  bring  him  the 
death-sentence  cried  out  the  words  which  Chapman  here  reports.  '  When 
Biron  was  brought  before  the  Chancellor  in  the  chapel  of  the  prison  he 
cried  out  afar  off :  Oh,  my  Lord  Chancellor,  is  there  no  pardon  ?  is  there  no 
mercy  ?i  The  Chancellor  saluted  him  and  put  on  his  hat '.  Grimeston, 
p.  983. 

V,  iii,  92-106.  '  The  Duke  of  Biron  .  .  .  turned  towards  the  Chancellor,  and 
shaking  him  by  the  arme,  sayd,  You  have  judged  me  and  God  will  absolve 
me,  hee  will  lay  open  their  iniquities  which  have  shut  their  eyes  because  they 
would  not  see  mine  innocency ;  you,  my  Lord,  shall  answere  for  this  injustice 
before  him,  whether  I  do  sommon  you  within  a  yeare  and  a  day,  I  go  before 
by  the  judgement  of  men,  but  those  that  are  the  cause  of  my  death  shall  come 
after  by  the  judgement  of  God  ....  But  the  Duke  of  Biron's  assignation 
was  vaine,  for  the  Chancellor  appeared  not,  but  hath  bin  more  healthful 
since  then  before  '.  Grimeston,  p.  983. 

V,  iii,  107-25.  These  speeches  also  are  taken  from  Grimeston,  where  Harlay's 
words,  11.  117-25,  are  given  to  the  Chancellor. 

V,  iii,  130.  Byron  addressed  this  question  to  Roissy,  Master  of  Requests,  a 
character  who  does  not  appear  in  Chapman's  play.  Roissy  replied,  '  My 
Lord,  I  pray  God  to  comfort  you '.  This  explains  the  sense  of  orator  in 
1.  131. 

V,  iii,  182-47.     This  speech  is  almost  verbally  from  Grimeston,  p.  984. 

V,  iii,  151-84.  This  speech  is  also  based  upon  Grimeston,  pp.  984-5,  but 
does  not  follow  him  so  closely  as  the  preceding.  The  allusions  to  the 
conspiracy  at  Mantes,  the  siege  of  Amiens,  and  to  the  loss  of  a  good  servant 
to  France  and  an  enemy  to  Spain  in  his  death,  all  occur  in  the  original. 
The  curious  phrase,  had  then  the  wolf  to  fly  upon  his  bosom,  11.  160-1,  is  not  in 
Grimeston,  nor  is  there  anything  in  Matthieu  or  Cayet  to  suggest  it.  It 
appears  to  be  a  distortion  of  the  old  saying  about  holding  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.  184  than  remain  on  the  stage 
silent  to  the  end  of  the  scene. 

V,  iii,  193-8.  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. 

Their  ornaments  are  burthens,  their  delights 

Are  mercenary  servile  parasites, 

Betraying,  laughing  ;  fiends  that  rais'd  in  fears 

At  parting  shake  their  roofs  about  their  ears. 

Poems,  p.  i20« 


NOTES  621 

I  would  venture  the  suggestion  that  these  lines,  though  not  published 
till  1609,  represent  the  first  draft  of  the  passage  in  the  play. 

V,  iii,  199-204.  The  obscure  comparison  between  Virtue  and  Fortune  in  these 
lines  may  be  interpreted  as  follows :  The  gifts  of  Virtue,  i.e.  the  noble 
qualities  of  Byron,  have  deserted  him  in  his  utmost  need.  Virtue,  who 
was  wont  to  help  men  hi  necessity,  and  to  love  men  who  were  despised  by 
the  world,  is  now  unmoved  by  Byron's  necessity  or  the  disgrace  into  which 
he  has  fallen.  It  is  possible  that  the  text  is  corrupt  here. 

V,  iii,  287-40.  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  inexperienced  hangman 
would  have  died  for  fear. 

V,  iv,  1-17.  This  conversation  comes  from  Grimeston,  p.  987,  where,  however, 
other  speakers  are  introduced. 

V,  iv,  84-8.  These  lines  reappear  with  very  slight  changes  hi  The  Tears  of 
Peace  (Poems,  p.  124).  The  image  in  the  last  line  of  the  passage  is  illus 
trated  by  a  passage  in  Bussy,  V,  i,  115-7. 

V,  iv,  46.  For  the  original  text  and  the  emendations  proposed  see  Text  Notes, 
p.  628.  I  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,  iv,  51-4.  '  Praying  unto  God,  not  as  a  devout  Christian,  but  as  a  soldier, 
not  as  a  religious  man,  but  as  a  captain,  not  as  Moyses  or  Elias,  but  like 
to  Josua,  who  on  horseback,  and  with  his  sword  in  his  hand,  prayed  and 
commanded  the  sonne  to  stand  still '.  Grimeston,  p.  987. 

V,  iv,  55.    Ropes  of  sand :  a  similar  phrase  occurs  in  Caesar  and  Pompey,  I,  ii, 

V,  iv,  55-^82.  Taken  direct  from  Grimeston,  p.  988.  The  following  lines  to 
1.  69  are  original,  and  then  comes  an  adaptation  from  the  classics. 

V,  iv,  09-72.  As  Cunliffe  (loc,  cit.  p.  98)  pointed  out,  these  lines  are  a  free  trans 
lation  from  Seneca : 

Cur  anitnatn  in  ista  luce  detineatn  ampliiis, 
Morerque  nil  est :  cuncta  jam  amisi  bona, 
Menletn,  arma,  famam,  conjugetn,  gnatos,  manus, 
Etiam  furorem. 

Hercules  Fur  ens,  1258-61. 

V,  iv,  75-119.  The  sentence  of  death  was  read  to  Biron  in  the  chapel  of  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. 

V,  iv,  99.  Of  both  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. 

V,  iv,  113.  The  Gjevt :  the  open  place  now  known  as  the  Place  de  1'Hotel- 
de-Ville  de  Paris.  It  was  frequently  used  for  public  executions,  especially 
of  distinguished  prisoners. 

V,  iv,  120-5.  The  Chancellor  summoned  Biron  to  surrender  his  order  before 
the  readuig  of  the  sentence  of  death,  and  the  Duke  returned  it  with  the 
words  given  by  Chapman ;  see  Grimeston,  pp.  985-6. 

V,  iv,  188-41.  Immediately  after  the  departure  of  the  Chancellor  Biron 
begged  the  Knight  of  the  Watch  to  go  after  him  and  ask  that  his  body 
might  be  buried  with  his  ancestors  (Grimeston,  p.  988).  This  part  is  here 
conferred  on  Biron's  friend,  D'Escures,  who  in  reality  was  not  present  at 
the  execution, 


622   THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

V,  iv,  152-8.  The  simile  of  a  little  stream  swollen  to  a  torrent  is  a  favourite 
one  with  Chapman.  Compare  Byron's  Conspiracy,  II,  ii,  188-92. 

V,  iv,  159-62.  '  Having  continued  with  his  confessors  halfe  an  houre  (beeing 
neere  five  of  the  clocke)  one  came  and  told  him  that  it  was  tune  to  part, 
Go  we  (sayd  he)  seeing  I  must  .  .  .  Coming  into  the  Court  he  went  five 
or  six  paces  without  speaking  a  word  but  ha,  ha,  ha  '.  Grimeston,  p.  989. 

V,  iv,  163-7.  '  Going  out  of  the  Chapell  the  Executioner  presented  himself 
unto  him.  He  asked  Voisin  what  he  was.  It  is  (sayd  he)  the  Executioner  of 
the  sentence.  Retire  thyself  (sayd  the  Duke  of  Byron),  touch  me  not  until 
it  be  time.  And  doubting  least  he  should  be  bound  he  added,  /  will  go  freely 
unto  death,  I  have  no  hands  to  defend  myself  against  it,  but  it  shall  never  be 
sayd  that  I  die  bound  like  a  Theefe  or  a  Slave,  and  turning  toward  the  hang 
man  hee  swore  that  if  he  came  neere  him  he  would  pull  out  his  throat '. 
Grimeston,  p.  989.  .  .  .  '  He  threw  downe  his  hat  and  cast  his  handkercher 
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  were,  of 
course,  a  perquisite  of  the  executioner. 

V,  iv,  176-201.  '  He  takes  his  handkercher  with  which  he  binds  his  eyes, 
asking  the  Executioner  where  he  should  set  himselfe  :  He  answered  him, 
There  my  Lord,  there:  And  where  is  that?  Thou  seest  that  I  see  nothing, 
and  yet  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  Execu 
tioner  intreated  him  to  suffer  him  to  cut  his  haire.  At  that  word  he 
grew  into  choller  againe,  he  unbanded  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  choler,  I  will  strangle  half 
the  company  that  is  here,  and  will  force  the  rest  to  kill  mee.  I  will  leape 
downe,  if  you  thrust  me  into  dispaire  '.  Grimeston,  pp.  990-1. 
V,  iv,  206-25.  Byron's  appeal  to  the  soldiers  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 
die  so  miserably,  and  of  so  infamous  a  stroake?  ...  At  these  words  the  teares 
fell  from  the  souldiars  eyes  '.  The  spirited  speeches  of  the  soldier  in 
Chapman,  11.  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 
by  that  of  their  Prince  '. 

V,  iv,  231-44.  Before  leaving  the  chapel  for  the  scaffold  Biron  sent  a  message 
to  his  brothers-in-law  in  almost  the  words  Chapman  gives  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  translation 
in  Grimeston,  p.  989,  '  Beseeching  him  [D'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  necessite  que  de  mauvaise  volont6  ',  Matthieu,  vol.  2,  p.  162  6). 
Chapman  apparently  mistook  he  in  the  last  clause  as  referring  to 
Biron  himself.  The  parallel  passage  in  Cayet,  p.  313,  makes  the  true 
sense  quite  clear  :  Que  s'il  [D'Auvergne]  faict  quelque  chose  mal  a 
propos,  la  necessite  le  lui  faict  fake,  et  non  qu'il  manquast  d' affection  vers 
le  Roy  '. 

V,  iv,  245-61.  Grimeston  gives  the  following  account  of  Biron's  last  mo 
ments,  p.  991,  '  They  [the  preachers]  goe  up  againe,  and  speake  some 


NOTES  623 

good  words  unto  him  in  his  eare,  the  which  doth  temper  his  furious  rage, 
and  calme  the  choller  which  the  Executioner's  presence  did  thrust  him 
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  having  received  his 
absolution,  he  sayd,  My  God,  my  God,  take  pittie  on  met.  Then  turning 
to  the  Executioner,  he  takes  the  binder  that  was  in  his  hand,  trusses  up 
his  hake  behind,  and  binds  it  uppon  his  fore-head,  and  with  his  handker- 
cher  he  blinds  his  eyes,  and  so  kneeles  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.  7,  sayd  he,  Heaven  is  open  for 
my  soule.  And  this  done  he  bends  downe  his  head  .  .  .  saying  unto  the 
Executioner,  Strike,  Strike,  oh  Strike  [cf.  1.  259]  .  .  .  The  Executioner 
having  scene  him  to  rise  and  to  unblinde  himselfe  thrice,  that  in  turning 
toward  him  being  not  bound,  having  the  sword  in  his  hand,  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  signe  to  his  man  to  reach  him  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  Bucking 
ham's  farewell  (Henry  VIII,  II.  i,  55-136),  and  in  the  last  speech  of  Barna- 
velt  (Sir  John  van  Olden  Barnavelt). 

The  text  contains  no  stage  direction  for  the  bearing  off  of  Byron's  body, 
nor  indeed  for  any  exit  of  the  actors  gathered  round  the  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  scaffold 
and  the  hangman  standing  over  him  with  his  raised  sword.  For  a  fuller 
discussion  of  the  setting  of  this  scene  see  Modern  Language  Review,  October, 
1908,  pp.  63-4. 

TEXT  NOTES 

The  two  plays  were  entered  in  the  Stationers'  Registers  on  l  June  5,  1608, 
as  follows  : 

Thomas  Thorp  entered  for  his  coppie  under  thandes  of  Sir  George  Buck  and  the  wardens 
a  booke  called  The  Conspiracy  and  Tragedit  of  Charles  Duke  of  Byron  written  by  George 
Chapman. 

They  were  published  by  Thorp  in  the  same  year,  1608.  Of  all  Chapman's 
plays  these  alone  achieved  the  honour  of  a  second  edition  in  his  life  time. 
This  appeared  in  1625  ;  it  is  a  genuine  new  edition,  not  a  mere  reprint  of  the 
first,  but  the  changes  which  it  shows  are  almost  always  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  Q2.  and  I  follow  it  throughout,  except 
in  one  or  two  instances  where  I  have  admitted  and  noted  a  reading  from  the 
latter.  In  the  following  pages  I  denote  Qi  by  A,  and  Qa  by  B,  and  record 
all  variations  except  differences  of  spelling  and  evident  misprints. 

These  plays  were  not  reprinted,  so  far  as  I  can  discover,  between  1625  and 
1873,  when  they  appeared  in  The  Comedies  and  Tragedies  of  George  Chapman, 
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 
number  of  them  remain  in  the  text,  which  is  in  consequence  quite  unreliable. 
A  facsimile  reprint  of  A,  giving  all  the  B  variants,  is  a  work  much  to  be  desired, 

l  Not  on  May  3,  as  Flety,  Biog!  Ckron:,  rol.  i,  p.  62,  states.         j 


624  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 

as  the  text  of  these  plays  is  in  a  very  unsatisfactory  condition.  I  have  made 
a  detailed  comparison  of  A  and  B,  and  published  the  results  in  The  Modern 
Language  Review  for  October,  1908,  to  which  article  I  refer  any  reader  who 
wishes  to  go  further  into  the  matter.  I  denote  the  Pearson  reprint  by  P.  I 
have  modernized  the  spelling  and  punctuation  throughout. 

The  only  other  editions  are  those  of  Shepherd  in  The  Works  of  George 
Chapman — Plays  1874,  and  of  Professor  Phelps  in  Best  Plays  of  George  Chap 
man,  edited  for  the  Mermaid  Series,  1895.  Both  these  are  modernized  ver 
sions  of  P.  and  are  without  critical  value.  I  shall  refer  to  them  when  necessary 
as  S.  and  Ph.  respectively. 


THE  CONSPIRACY 

The  list  of  Dramatis  Personae  was  first  printed  by  Ph.  I  have  re-arranged 
it,  and  added  certain  explanations  of  the  characters  for  the  benefit  of  the 
reader  who  can  hardly  be  expected  to  know  all  the  characters  or  anticipate 
the  parts  they  are  to  play. 


I,   i,   22.  Qq.   long-tongd  Heraulds -, 
S,  loud-tongued. 

41.  A,  Franch  County  ;  B,  French 
Bounty.  I  modernize  to  Franche- 
Comte. 

43.  The  punctuation  of  this  line 
differs  in  the  original  texts. 
Most  copies  have  a  semicolon 
after  Savoy.  I  have  used  a 
colon  to  make  the  sense  clearer. 

124.  Qq.  mutuall  rites.  Mr.  Daniel 
suggests  rights,  which  may  be 
correct,  but  does  not  seem  neces 
sary. 

145.  A,  Licentiate;  B,  Licentiary. 
All  former  editors  follow  B,  but 
A  seems  to  me  better  both  for 
sense  and  metre. 

203.  A,  traitrous  ;  B,  traytors.  All 
editors  follow  B,  because  their  in 
1.  204  seems  to  require  a  noun 
as  antecedent ;  but  I  think  the 
loose  construction  of  A  is  char 
acteristic  of  Chapman. 

212.  A,  peace  now  made ;  B,  peace 

I  now  make. 
I,  ii,  64.  A,  offends  ;  B,  offend. 

95.  A,  And  so  'tis  nothing  ;  B,  And 
so  'tis  nothing  else.  The  change 
spoils  the  sense  of  the  passage ; 
nothing  refers  to  servile  loyalty, 
1.  89,  which  Picote  calls  a  mere 
nothing. 

98.  A,  carve;  B,  crave,  probably 
a  mi  spruit. 

134.  A,  forme  ;  B,  fame. 

142.  A.  continuate  ;   B,  continuall. 

175.   A,     uttermost  ;      B,     utmost, 
which  is  followed  by  all  editors  as 
smoother  metrically  ;  but  I  pre 
fer  to  retain  the  first  reading. 
221.  A,  He  hold  ;  B,  Is  held. 


II,  i,  11.  Qq.  guardlike,  which  is  fol 
lowed  by  all  editors.  But  no 
such  word  is  known,  and  I  have 
therefore  emended  to  guardless, 
a  word  used  by  Chapman  in  his 
Iliad,  V,  146.  It  has  there  the 
meaning  '  unguarded ',  which, 
with  a  slight  extension  to 
'  heedless ',  would  suit  the  present 
passage. 

51-  Qq-  your  service,  and  so  all 
editors.  But  the  phrase  seems 
to  me  almost  unintelligible,  and 
I  have  emended  to  your  servant. 

52.  I  have  added  cum  suis  to  the 
stage  direction  of  the  Qq.  after 
this  line  to  show  that  his  at 
tendants  left  the  stage  along  with 
the  Duke. 

68.  Qq.  fleade  carcase.  I  modernize 
to  flay'd. 

70.  A,  an  intelligencing  Lord  ;  B, 
an  intelligencing  instrument.  I 
agree  with  the  former  editors  in 
preferring  B,  for  I  think  no  one 
would  have  made  this  change 
but  the  author  himself. 

105.  For  assume  Mr.  Daniel  sug 
gests  affirm,  which  is  a  tempting 
emendation.  But  assume,  in  the 
sense  of  '  arrogate,  lay  claim  to  ', 
gives  a  possible  sense,  and  I 
therefore  retain  it. 

122.  A,  pallms ;  B,  palms.  Mr. 
Daniel  suggests  plains  as  the 
true  reading.  This  seems  to  me 
certain ;  pallms  is  an  evident 
misprint. 

149.  Qq.  dull  shore  of  East,  ac 
cepted  by  all  editors.  But  there 
can  be  no  sense  in  applying  the 
epithet  dull  to  the  East,  and  Mr. 


NOTES 


625 


Daniel's  emendation  ease  seems 
to  me  to  carry  conviction. 
n,  ii,  47.    A,  further  from  ;  B,  further 
then,   probably   a  proof-reader's 
ill-advised  change. 

148.  A,  yet  must  not  give ;  B,  yet 
you  must  not  give.  The  insertion 
of  you  spoils  the  sense. 

187.  A,  beates  ;  B,  beares,  probably 
a  misprint. 

216  A,  My  'Lor.  ;  B,  My  Lord 
I  think  A  attempts  to  give 
the  French  pronunciation  of 
the  title. 

220-8.  I  have  repunctuated  these 
lines  to  bring  out  what  I  take  to 
be  their  meaning.  The  original 
punctuation,  which  is  reproduced 
in  P,  is  very  confusing. 
HI,  ii,  90.  For  the  Qq.  armes  S  reads 
armies,  a  tempting  emendation, 
but  not,  I  think,  necessary; 
armes  could  be  pronounced  as  a 
dissyllable. 

118.  Qq.  read  prefect ;  S  corrects 
to  perfect. 

121.  Qq.  purfle,  which  is  followed 
by  all  editors.  But  I  do  not  see 
that  purfle,  '  an  embroidered  or 
decorated  border  ',  makes  sense 
here,  and  therefore  suggest  profile. 

214.  A,  And  we  will  turne  these 
torrents,  hence.  The  King. 
Exit  Laffi  ;  B,  And  we  will  turne 
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 
change  spoiled  the  metre  and 
anticipated  the  true  entrance, 
given  in  both  A  and  B  a  line 
below.  Yet  this  gross  blunder 
has  been  followed  by  all  former 
editors. 

218.  A,  house  ;  B,  correctly  houses. 

224.  Qq.  femall  mischiefs.  The 
editors  have  taken  femall  as  a 
variant  of  '  female ',  but  this 
gives  no  sense.  Following  a  sug 
gestion  of  Dr.  Bradley  I  read 
feral,  '  deadly ',  for  which  femall 
might  easily  be  misprinted.  The 
same  misprint  occurs  in  The 
Gentleman  Usher,  II,  i,  286,  where 
also  we  should  read  feral, 

C.D.W. 


258.  For  last  Deighton  (Old  Dra 
matists)  proposes  blast,  which 
seems  to  me  barely  intelligible. 

260.  For  eas'd  Deighton  suggests 
caus'd,  a  tempting  emendation. 
But  I  believe  eas'd,  i.e.  '  gave 
ease,  or  vent,  to '  may  be  re 
tained.  See  note,  p.  606. 

284.  In  the  stage  direction  after 
this  line  Qq.  have  Exit  Hen.  & 
Sau.  But  Sav,  i.e.  Savoy,  must 
have  left  the  stage  after  1.  209 
where  the  direction  Exu.  manet 
Byr :  Laffin  must  mean  Exeunt 
all  but  Byron  and  La  Fin.  I 
therefore  alter  here  to  Henry 
cum  suis. 

291.  A,  fayning ;   B,  saying. 

III,  iii,  64.  Qq-  must  utter.     S  emends 

may'st  which  makes  a  more  in 
telligible  reading.  But  I  believe 
the  old  reading  may  be  retained. 
See  note,  p.  606. 

84.  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 
gest  nothing  better. 

124.  Qq.that  my  weake  braine.  I  have 
ventured  to  read  than,  for  which 
that  is  often  misprinted ;  but  I 
am  not  sure  that  this  emendation 
is  absolutely  necessary. 

IV,  i,  25.     I  have  ventured  to  insert 

not  on  the  authority  of  the 
sources.  See  note,  p.  607. 

40.  Qq.  Christall.  Perhaps  we 
should  read  Christ,  but  see  note, 
p.  607. 

218.  A,  maver  ;  B,  correctly  waver. 

216.  A,  over  rules ;  B,  over-rule. 
This  change  may  have  been  made 
to  make  the  verb  agree  with  its 
supposed  subject  starres ;  but 
the  true  subject  is  whom,  at 
tracted  into  the  objective  to 
agree  with  its  antecedent. 

V,  i,  18.  Qq.  meate.     Brereton  (Mod. 

Lang.  Review,  October,  1907) 
suggests  mead,  which  is  very 
plausible,  but  I  believe  meate, 
in  the  sense  of  'mess,  eating- 
place,'  may  be  retained 
V,  ii,  5.  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. 
C.  12.  g.  5  and  the  Bodleian 

ss 


626  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 


copy)  read  So  long  as  idle  and 
rediculous  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. 

22.  For   Qq.    dead   Deighton   sug 
gests    dread,    which    seems    un 
necessary.     See  note,  p.  609. 
38.  In    the    stage    direction    after 
this    line    A    has    Exieunt ;     B 
Exeunt.     I  emend  Exiturus,  as  it 
is  evident  that  Byron  does  not 
leave    the   stage. 
103.  Qq.  lockt.     Perhaps  we  should 

read  locke. 

116.  The  stage  direction  after  this 
line  Enter  Savoy,  etc.,  occurs  in 
the  Qq.  after  1.  no. 
254.  A,    most   absolute ;    B,    abso- 
lut'st. 

THE  TRAGEDY 

The  list  of  Wramatis  Personae  was 
first  printed  by  Ph.     I  have  recon 
structed  it  from  the  Qq.  and  added 
some  explanations. 
I,  i,  37.    A,  beaveries  ;  B,  braveries. 

123.  A,  overmacht ;   B,  overmatcht. 
S    emends    overwatched ;    but    I 
think  overmatch' d  in  the  sense  of 
'  overpowered '  may  be  retained. 

124.  Qq.    when   guilty    (A,    gultie) 
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 

\When  guilty  mad  noblesse  fed  on 
noblesse,  and  Mr.  Daniel  When 
guilt-made  noblesse  fed  on  noblesse. 
Of  these  two  I  should  prefer  the 
former,  but  Chapman  almost 
invariably  accents  noblesse,  and 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  a 
word  has  dropped  out  after 
guilty.  I  suggest  with  some  diffi- 

_  .dence  lust,  i.e.  lust  of  power. 

141.  Qq.  quite  out  of  from  'fortune. 
S  emends  quite  cut  off,  which  is 
corroborated  by  the  parallel 

i  This  reading  had  already  been  given 
Specimens  of  the  English  Dra- 


passage  in  Caesar  and  Pompey, 
II,  iv,  136-40. 
I  ii,  4.  A,  neclected  ;  B,  neglected. 

20.  A,  his  fixed  ;  B,  her  fixed. 

38.  Qq-  this  is.  An  old  hand  in  a 
copy  of  B  (Brit.  Mus.  C.  45,  b.  9) 
suggests  his  for  this  is,  a  rather 
plausible  emendation,  but  not 
necessary. 

45.  For  Qq.  winde  Deighton  sug 
gests  mind.  But  I  think  wind 
here  means  '  spirit ' ;  cf.  give 
ayre  in  1.  44. 

I,  iii,  73.  Qq.  that  must  conclude.     The 

source,  Grimeston,  furnishes  the 
true  reading,  most.  See  note, 
p.  612. 

II,  26.     A,  saftety  ;  B,  safety. 

65.  Qq.  play  the  prease.  The  old 
hand  already  referred  to  emends 
pray,  which  is  certainly  right. 
S  retains  play,  but  corrects 
prease  to  press. 

102.  A,  the  vertue  ;  B,  vertue.  The 
context  shows  B  to  be  correct. 

III,  i,  57.     The  Qq.  do  not  indicate 
the  entry  of  La  Brunei  after  this 
line,  but  simply  assign  11.  58-9 
to  La  Brun.     I  have  supplied  the 
entry  as  well  as  the  exit  after 
1.   165   to  prepare  for  the  later 
entrance  indicated  by  the   Qq. 
after  1.  230. 

143-4.  Qq.  Syrian  Starve  .  .  . 
Lyons  mouth.  Read  Sirian  star 
.  .  .  Lion's  month.  See  note, 
p.  613. 

190.  A,  staires ;  B,  starres.  See 
note,  p.  613. 

201.  Qq.  by  laying  out.  I  suspect 
a  corruption  in  the  text.  Per 
haps  we  should  read  flying  out. 
But  see  note,  p.  614. 

204.  B  inserts  no  before  nor. 
This  sounds  like  an  actor's  in 
terpolation. 

230-2.  Qq.  print  as  prose. 

239.  A,  scruple  ;  B,  scruiples. 
HI,  ii,  56.  Before  this  line  A  repeats 
the  name  of  the  speaker,  Hen[ry}. 

69.  After  Be  the  old  hand  inserts 
it,  a  plausible  but  unnecessary 
correction,  as  Chapman  often 
omits  a  subject  that  may  be  sup 
plied  from  the  context. 

88-90.  Qq.  print  these  three  lines 
as  two,  Resolving  ,  ..  .  in,  And 
had  .  .  .  son. 

111.  A,  expedition  ;  B,  exhebition. 

113.  Qq.  foyld.  S  alters  to  soiVd, 
an  unnecessary  change. 


NOTES 


627 


129.  A,  your  friend  ,    B,  a  friend. 
IV,  i,  8.  A,  much  better  themselves'; 
B    corrects    by    inserting    then 
before  themselves. 
83.  A,  must  like  ;  B,  most  like. 
68-9.    Qq.   print  the  words  from 

They  to  King  as  one  line. 
125.  A,    f el-mad ;    B,    corrects    to 

fell  mad. 
153.  Qq.    omit    Exeunt   after   this 

line. 

IV,  ii,  25.  A,  resolution  what ;  B, 
that.  The  context 
to  have  the  better 


ii,   25.  A, 

resolution 
shows    B 
reading. 
85.  I    have 


inserted  the  name 
Montigny  in  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line  to  prepare  for  his 
speech,  11.  156-62. 

90.  Qq.  omit  Exit  D'A  uvergne  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, 
p.  616. 

119.  A,  the  worthy  ;  B,  that  worthy. 

144.  Qq.  Calydonian.  The  correct 
form  is  Chalybonian  (see  note, 
p.  616)  ;  the  Teubner  edition  of 
Plutarch  gives  xaAvSwi>io«  as  a 
variant  of  \a\vfttavioy. 

170-1.  Qq.  have  unmov'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 
to  is. 

194.  Qq.  misery.    The  old  hand  has 
Mysterye,     anticipating    S    and 
Deighton.     The    context    shows 
mystery  to  be  correct. 

195.  A,  enouge  ;  B,  enough. 

201.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction  in  this  line,  since  it 
is  clear  that  Henry  and  Byron 
are  left  alone  on  the  stage. 

256.  Qq.  my  person  ;  wich  is.  The 
old  hand  corrects  wich  is  to 
with.  S  follows  this,  which  is 
certainly  the  true  reading. 

263.  B  transfers  envy  to  the  begin 
ning  of  1.  264.  I  have  ventured 


to  insert  but  before  envy,  thus 
restoring  the  metre,  and  im 
proving,  I  think,  the  sense. 

273.  A,  A  property  :  B,  Properties. 
B  is  perhaps  the  better  reading, 
but  here,  as  in  all  doubtful  cases, 
I  have  retained  the  reading  of  A. 

294.  Qq.  Shooes  ever  overthrow. 
After  much  hesitation  I  have 
decided  to  read  shows,  i.e. 
'  pageants,'  taking  overthrow  as 
intransitive,  see  New  English  Dic 
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  myself  that  the  homely 
figure,  '  too  large  shoes  over 
throw  their  wearer '  is  what  Chap 
man  intended  to  write  here. 

807.  Qq.  it  will  beare.  The  old 
hand  corrects  that  will  bear,  an 
ticipating  Deighton. 

309.  A,  his  best ;  B,  corrects  to  is 
best. 

310-1.  A    has    That   for   the   first 

word  in  both  lines  ;   B,  As. 
V,  i,  2.  A,  That ;  B,  Which. 

9.  A,  And;  B,  For. 

38.  A,  Till  ;  B,  Untill. 

68.  A,  Take ;  B,  Have. 

70.  A,  lothes  ;  B,  hates. 

82.  A,  feared;  B,  sacred.  See 
note,  p.  6 1 8.  I  think  A  is  the 
more  likely  of  the  two  to  be  a 
misprint,  and  so  follow  B. 

88.  A,  impartiall ;  B,  imperiall. 

91.  A,  Duke  Byron ;  B,  Duke  of 
Byron. 

99.  B  inserts  make  before  slack. 

112.  Qq.  in  the  best  sort.  I  take 
best  to  be  a  misprint  for  lest,  a 
common  spelling  of  '  least ',  and 
correct  accordingly,  here  and  in 
1.  115,  where  Qq.  also  have  best. 

118.  A,  Thai  ;  B,  So. 

119.  A,  unwares  ;   B,  unawares. 
122.  A,  not  out ;   B,  nor  out.     For 

out  Deighton  suggests  it,  i.e.  '  the 
light ',  but  out  stands  in  contrast 
to  down. 

V,  ii,  20.     A,  Till  ;  B,  Until. 
20-2.  A    misprints    Hen.    as    the 


628  THE  CONSPIRACY  AND  TRAGEDY  OF  BYRON 


name  of  the  speaker.     B  corrects 
to  Har . 

60.  A,  The  fourth  is  ;  B,  Fourthly. 

76.  A,  treaties  ;  B,  treaty. 

87.  A,  for  him  ;  B,  from  him. 

117.  B  omits  then. 

122.  B  inserts  then  before  say,  and 
drops  /  know. 

201.  A,  What  I  Jiave;  B,  What 
have  I. 

244.  Qq.  the.  I  read  their,  but 
perhaps  the  should  be  retained  as 
an  instance  of  the  article  used 
for  the  possessive  pronoun. 
V,  iii,  1.  Qq.  give  this  speech  to 
Vit[ry],  an  evident  misprint  for 
Vid[ame], 

14.  B  omits  my. 

43.  Qq.  hangd.  S  corrects  to 
changed. 

68.  Qq.  engazd.  I  see  no  sense  in 
this,  and  suggest  englaz'd,  i.e. 
'painted'.  See  note,  p.  619. 

73.  The  stage  direction  Within, 
wanting  in  A,  is  supplied  by  B. 

135.  A,  that  injures  ;  B,  and  in 
jures.  This  coincides  with  the 
altered  position  of  the  paren 
thesis  which  in  B  includes  only 
the  words  from  most  to  is,  1.  134. 
These  changes  may  be  the  poet's 
own,  but  I  prefer  to  retain  A. 

187.  A,  restaines  ;   B,  restraines. 

154.  A,  his  vices,  nor  for ;  B,  their 
vices,  not  for.  I  believe  B  repre 
sents  the  change  of  a  proof 
reader  who  noticed  at  the  evi 
dent  misprint  nor  for  not  in  A, 
and  in  the  ardour  of  correction 
attempted  another  emendation, 
their  for  his. 

184.  I  supply  the  missing  stage 
direction  Exit  Byron  after  this 
line. 

185-6.  Qq.  print  the  words  Never 
.  .  .  death  as  one  line. 

217.  Qq.  render  the  kingdomes. 
Deighton  corrects  under,  etc. 

226.  A,  Authoriy  ;  B,  Authority. 

240.  I  have  supplied  Exeunt  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  join  the  procession  to 
the  scaffold. 

V,  iv,  23.     Qq.  give  Arch[bishop]  as 
the  speaker.     See  note,  p.  610. 

45.  Qq.  /  bring  a  long  globe  and  a 
little  earth.  The  text  is  plainly 
corrupt.  Deighton  proposes 
being  a  blown  globe  of  a  little 


breath  ;  Brereton  suggests  lone 
for  long.  I  venture  to  read  being 
a  large  globe  and  a  little  earth. 
See  note,  p.  621. 

58.  I  have  supplied  the  speech  of 
Vitry's  from  Grimeston.  In  A 
the  last  word  on  the  page  (sig. 
Q±  reverse)  is  Blancart ;  then 
comes  the  catch-word  Vit[ry]. 
But  the  next  page  begins  Byr. 
Do  they  flie  me.  It  is  plain 
that  a  speech  by  Vitry  has 
dropped  out.  Grimeston  (p. 
988)  gives  the  answer  to  Biron's 
request  to  speak  with  La  Force 
and  Blancart,  '  They  tould  him 
they  were  not  in  the  city '. 
Chapman  evidently  meant  to  give 
some  such  speech  to  Vitry.  In 
B  owing  to  a  difference  of  paging 
there  is  no  catch-word  Vit[ry] 
and  therefore  no  indication  of 
any  omission. 

71.  Qq.  winde,  a  misprint  for  mind 
as  the  source  shows.  See  note, 
p.  621. 

77.  A,  yee ;   B,  you. 

100.  Qq.  treason  in  a  sentence.  The 
word  in  makes  nonsense  of  the 
passage.  Grimeston,  p.  986, 
suggests  the  true  reading  accused 
of  treason,  a  sentence  was  given. 

136.  Qq.  They  had  beene.     They  is 
unintelligible.    Grimeston,  p.  988, 
'  the  King  had  not  beene  living 
three  yeares  since  ',  suggests  the 
true  reading.    I  believe  Chapman 
wrote    He,    which    the    printer 
misread  They. 

137.  I   insert   the  stage   direction 
after  this  line  on  the  strength  of 
Grimeston,    who   says,    p.    988, 
that  the  Chancellor  and  Harlay 
left  Biron  after  he  had  spoken 
the  words  given  in  11.  131-6. 

149.  B  omits  the  before  mountains. 

157.  Qq.  low  straines  ;  S  emends 
streams. 

182.  I  insert  the  stage  directions 
after  this  line. 

178.  A,  Thou  seest  I  see  not  ?  Yet 
I  speake  as  I  saw.  B  has  a 
comma  instead  of  the  question 
mark.  Neither  is  intelligible; 
but  Grimeston,  p.  990,  '  Thou 
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  speak'st  or 
speaks,  that  a  compositor  mis- 


NOTES 

printed  it  speake,  and  that  a  barely  possible  that  this  may  in- 
proof-reader  completed  the  con-  dicate  an  intention  to  close 
fusion  by  inserting  /  before  Byron's  speech  with  the  word 
speake.  strike  and  to  give  the  last  two 
259.  Qq.  print  this  line  as  two,  and  a  half  lines  to  another 
ending  strike  and  soule.  It  is  speaker. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 

INTRODUCTION 

The  Tragedy  of  Chabot,  the  last  of  Chapman's  plays  dealing  with 
French  history,  was  licensed  by  Sir  Henry  Herbert  l  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  Tho.  Cotes,  for  Andrew  Crooke,  and  William  Cooke.  1639. 

Only  one  quarto  is  known,  and  the  play  was  not  reprinted  until 
Dyce  included  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.  Lehman,  Philadelphia,  1906. 

Professor  Koeppel  (loc.  cit,)  has  shown  that  none  of  the  historians 
named  by  Langbaine  as  furnishing  the  plot  of  this  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  sixthj  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  1611;  and  this  latter  account  is  repeated  practically  word 
for  word  in  the  edition  of  1621.  So  far  as  Pasquier's  account  of  Chabot 
goes,  it  received  its  definitive  form  in  1611,  in  the  twelfth  chapter  of 
the  fifth  book,  entitled  Du  proces  extraordinaire  fait,  premierement  a 
Messire  Philippe  Chabot  Admiral  de  France,  puis  d  Messire  Guillaume 
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  1611  gives  Chabot's  titles  as  they  appear,  with  one  exception, 
in  Act  II,  Scene  iii ;  it  alone  gives  the  first  words  of  the  sentence  and 
mentions  Chabot's  exactions  on  the  Norman  fishers  (cf.  Ill,  ii,  233-5, 
and  III,  ii,  77-83)  ;  it  alone  gives  the  King's  phrase  '  mountains  and 
marvels'  (cf.  IV,  i,  324)  ;  it  alone  gives  Chabot's  answer  to  the  King 
'  I  thank  God  that  in  all  my  process  there  is  no  word  of  felony  '  (cf. 

1  Malone,  Variorum  Shakespeare,  vol.  iii,  p.  232,  n. 

•31 


632  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOt 

IV,  i,  252-4)  ;  it  alone  gives  the  details  of  the  sentence  pronounced  on 
Poyet  (cf.  V,  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  1611, 
and  may  have  been  written  any  time  thereafter,  before  or  after  1621. 
There  is  nothing  to  indicate  the  exact  time  ;  the  approximate  date 
will  depend  in  some  measure  upon  the  view  we  take  of  the  nature  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  1  was  licensed,  and  1634,  the  year  of  Chapman's  death,  in 
all  probability  nearer  the  latter  than  the  former  date,  for  it  is  incredible, 
if  the  two  had  collaborated  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  years  between 
them — Chapman  was  born  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  arouse  pity.  Chapman  was  a  laborious 
and  not  always  a  skilful  play-wright;  Shirley  was  easily  the  most 
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.  Chap 
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  worst  little  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  neatly  the  difference  between 
the  two.  '  Thy  Helicon  ',  he  says,  addressing  Shirley  : 

Thy  Helicon,  like  a  smooth  stream  doth  flow, 
While  others  with  disturbed  channels  go, 
And  headlong  like  Nile  cataracts  do  fall 
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  been  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  of  Chapman 
in* The  Ball.  Only  Mr.  Fleay  attempts  the  task  of  separation.  He 

J  Lovetricks,ioi  the  Lady  Elizabeth's  men  playing  at  the  Cockpit  in  Drury 
Lane. 

•  As  to  the  respective  parts  of  Chapman  and  Shirley  in  this  play,  see  the 
introduction  to  The  Ball  in  vol.  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  collaboration* 


INTRODUCTION  633 

asserts  l  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  Chapman  about  1604 
(which  has  been  shown  impossible,  since  it  cannot  be  earlier  than  the 
1611  edition  of  Pasquier),  and  that  Shirley  altered  and  re- wrote  the 
latter  part.  But  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  play  the  elaborate  simile  of  11.  52-64  can  only  be  from  Chapman's 
hand.  The  latest  editor,  Dr.  Lehman,  states,2  I  believe,  the  true 
conclusion,  '  that  the  play  was  originally  composed  by  Chapman  and 
revised  by  Shirley  '.  I  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  all  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  1613, 
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  debut  until  his  departure  for  Ireland  in  1636,  were  composed 
for  them.  And  this  is  the  company  that  performed  Chabot. 
What  is  more  probable  than  the  conjecture  that  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  methods  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,  introduce,  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  impossible  to  compare  Chabot  with  such  plays 
as  The  Revenge  of  Bussy  or  the  Byron  tragedies  without  feeling  more 
and  more  strongly  that  this  is  exactly  what  has  happened.  The  amount 
of  its  difference  from  Chapman's  earlier  work  is  the  measure  of  Shirley's 
revision.  But  the  original  design  and  the  groundwork  of  the  play  as 
it  now  stands  is  Chapman's,  and  a  brief  sketch  of  the  main  facts  of 
-Qmbot'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  Charni  and  de  Busangois,  was  born 

1  Biog.  Chront  voL  ii,  p.  241.  *  Introduction,  p.  25. 


634  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 

about  1480.  He  was  educated  along  with  Francis  of  Angouteme,  the 
heir-apparent,  and  Anne  de  Montmorenci,  his  future  rival,  at  the 
chateau  of  Amboise,  where,  according  to  Brant6me,  Francis  promised 
when  he  came  to  the  throne  to  bestow  upon  his  companions  the  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 
Pavia.  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  Dauphin,  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  irregular  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,  inserted  with  his  own  hand  the  words  '  infidelites  et 
deloyaute  '  among  the  list  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,  one  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,1  who  from  the  beginning  had  taken 
the  Admiral's  side,  and  permitted  Chabot  to  bring  further  testmony 
before  the  commission,  which  at  the  first  sign  of  the  King's  returning 
favour  promptly  pronounced  him  innocent  of  lese-majesti  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  Memories  (Nouvelle  Collection  des  Memories,  vol.  viii,  p.  100) 
asserts  that  D'Estampes  out  of  rivalry  with  Chabot's  wife  had  plotted  his 
ruin,  but  was  afterwards  reconciled,  and  obtained  his  pardon  on  condition  that 
his  son  married  her  niece.  This  version  seems  contrary  to  the  facts,  but 
some  such  report  may  have  suggested  the  Queen'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'  Memories,  which 
although  composed  before  1630,  do  not  appear  to  have  been  published  until 
1057. 


T         INTRODUCTION  635 

that  all  the  malice  of  my  enemies  could  not  find  me  guilty  of  any  want 
of  faith  toward  your  Majesty '.  Chabot  was  pardoned  by  letters 
patent  on  March  u,  1541,  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.  Brantdme  says l 
that  before  his  death  his  pulse  stopped  and  could  no  longer  be  felt  by 
the  most  expert  physician.  Two  years  after  his  death  the  Chancellor 
was  brought  to  trial,  heavily  sentenced,  and  declared  incapable  of 
holding  office  hereafter.  The  same  judges  who  pronounced  the  sen 
tence  declared  at  the  same  time  that  the  former  sentence  on  Chabot 
had  been  from  the  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  satisfied  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  relied,  differs  in  several  important  particulars  from  the 
sketch  given  above.  He  eliminates  all  mention  of  the  parts  played  by 
the  Constable  and  the  Duchess  D'Estampes  2  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  malice  and  servility 
of  Poyet  with  the  frank  and  independent  loyalty  of  Chabot,  and,  in 
turn,  with  the  fundamental  generosity  of  the  King,  who  after  his  first 
burst  of  passion  had  head  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  inflicted,  though  unwittingly,  by  the 
King  upon  his  old  friend  and  servant  :  '  Le  coup  toutes  fois  du  premier 
arrest  1'ulcera  [Chabot]  de  telle  fa9on  qu'il  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 

1  Grandes  Capitaines  Francois,  chap.  61. 

3  Koeppel,  followed  by  Lehman,  suggests  that  Chapman's  unpleasant 
experience  in  bringing  a  king's  mistress  upon  the  stage  in  the  Byron  plays 
had  taught  him  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  introduction  of  the  mistress  of  Henry  IV, 
but  the  wholly  unseemly  staging  of  her  quarrel  with  Henry's  wife,  a  quarrel 
in  which  ^bitter  words  were  succeeded  by  blows.  Chapman  could  hardly 
have  feared  that  the  natural  protest  of  the  French  Ambassador  on  the  former 
occasion  would  have  been  repeated  if  he  had  introduced  the  long  deceased 
mistress  of  Francis  I  in  the  not  ungracious  role  of  suppliant  for  a  fallen  favourite. 
I  should  attribute  his  omission  of  the  part  played  by  this  lady  to  Pasquier's 
silence  on  her  score.  " 


636  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 

favourite,  a  loyal  servant,  whose  only  fault  was  an  over-confidence  iri 
his  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  than 
either  Bussy  or  Clermont,  and  he  is  wholly  free  from  the  tragic  guilt  of 
Byron.     In  fact  in  Chabot  we  have  a  complete  reversal  of  the  situation 
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  the  State,  embodied  in  an  absolute  monarch,  over  the  individual. 
But  whereas  in  the  earlier  plays  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  State.    Where  Byron  takes  all  his 
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 
Duke  of  Sully  toward  Henry  IV.    In  fact,  the  incident  of  his  tearing  the 
bill  signed  by  the  King  may  have  been  suggested  by  the  well-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  loyal  subject  as 
Francis  treats  Chabot.    Following  along  the  lines  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  yield,  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 — represents  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  bend,  to  break  him, 
thinking  vainly  that  he  can  hereafter  repair  the  injury  and  regain  an 
instrument   as   trusty  as  before   and   more   pliable.     But,  to   quote 
the  words  which  Chapman  puts  in  the  King's  mouth  a  little  later 
(IV,  1,289-90): 

This  was  too  wild  a  way  to  make  his  merits 
Stoop  and  acknowledge  my  superior  bounties  ; 

and  Chabot,  although  restored  to  the  sunshine  of  the  royal  favour, 
feels  the  ice  of  death  creep  over  his  heart,  and  dies  at  last  at  the  King's 
feet  with  a  prayer  that  his  master  may  have  no  less  faithful  servants. 


INTRODUCTION  637 

If  the  Byron  plays  were  a  solemn  proclamation  that  the  days  of 
unrestrained  individualism  were  over,  Chabot  is  no  less  solemn  a  warning 
to  the  absolute  monarchs  of  the  new  age.  Its  text  might  be  found  in  a 
couple  of  lines  from  the  prayer  of  Henry  in  Byron's  Tragedy  (IV,  ii, 
79-82): 

0  how  much  j 

Err  those  kings,  then,  that  play  with  life  and  death. 

Chapman,  like  most  thinking  men  of  his  day,  believed  in  absolute 
monarchy,  but  he  held  that  the  monarch  could  be  absolute  without 
being  arbitrary.  He  has  carefully  avoided  painting  Francis  as  the 
typical  tyrant  of  Elizabethan  drama,  and  has  made  his  tragic  guilt 
consist  simply  in  the  fact  that  he  prefers  his  own  unreasoned  will  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 
needed  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  downfall  of  the  ancient  monarchy  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  CHABOT 

NOTES 

DRAMATIS   PERSONAE 

The  first  quarto  prints  the  names  of  the  actors  under  the  heading 
Speakers.  This  list  was  reprinted  by  l  Dyce  and  again  by  Shepherd.  It  is, 
however,  so  confusing  and  incomplete  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. 

Montmorency.  Anne  de  Montmorenci,  1492-1567,  was  educated  along 
with  Francis  I  and  Chabot,  and  was  taken  prisoner  with  them  at  Pavia.  In 
1535  he  repelled  Charles  V's  invasion  of  Provence,  and  was  rewarded  with  the 
office  of  Constable  of  France.  In  the  latter  years  of  the  reign  of  Francis  he 
headed  the  pro-Spanish  and  reactionary  party  at  the  French  Court,  and  fell 
from  power  after  his  quarrel  with  Chabot  in  1541.  He  returned  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. 

Ppyet.  Guillaume  Poyet,  ca.  1474-1548,  son  of  an  advocate  at  Angers, 
distinguished  himself  in  the  legal  profession,  and  became  Advocate- General 
in  1531  and  Chancellor  in  1538.  He  took  part  in  the  attack  on  Chabot, 
inspected  the  charges  brought  against  him,  and  presided  at  his  trial.  When 
Montmorency  was  disgraced,  Poyet  shared  his  fall  and  was  sent  to  the  Bastille. 
After  three  years'  imprisonment  he  was  tried,  condemned,  and  heavily  sen 
tenced. 

Allegro.  D'Alegre  was  the  name  of  a  prominent  family  of  Auvergne,  but  I 
can  find  nothing  to  connect  any  member  of  this  family  with  Chabot.  | 

The  Queen.  Eleanor  of  Austria,  dowager  Queen  of  Portugal  and  sister  of 
Charles  V,  became  the  second  wife  of  Francis  I  in  1530.  Her  sympathies 
would  naturally  have  been  with  Montmorency  and  against  Chabot. 

The  Wife.  Castelnau,  Memoires,  vol.  2,  p.  563,  edition  of  1731,  gives  her 
name  as  Francoise  de  Longrie.  Her  mother,  Jeanne  D'Angouleme,  was  a 
bastard  half-sister  of  Francis  I,  so  that  Chabot  was  connected  by  marriage 
with  his  King. 

I,  i.    This  scene  seems  to  me  almost  pure  Chapman,  though  it  may  have  been 

cut,  and  perhaps  arranged,  by  Shirley. 
I,  i,  68-72.    This  simile  is  a  favourite  one  with  Chapman ;  cf .  A  U  Fools,  I,  i,  47-8 

A  cozening  picture",  which'  one  way 
Shows  like  a  crow,  another  like  a  swan; 

and  Ovid's  Banquet  of  Sense  (1595),  where  a  statue  is  described — 

So  cunningly  to  optic  reason  wrought 
That  afar  off  it  show'd  a  woman's  face. 
Heavy  and  weeping,  but  more  nearly  view'd, 
><„  Nor  weeping,  heavy,  nor  a  woman,  show'd. 

Poems,  p.  22-3. 
l  See  Text  Notes,  p.  648. 
639 


640  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 

I,  i,  96-101.  These  lines  appear,  with  a  few  slight  changes,  in  A  Hymn  to  Christ 
upon  the  Cross  published  1612  (Poems,  p.  147).  The  passage  in  Chabot 
seems  to  me  a  somewhat  improved  version,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  this 
helps  us  to  date  the  play  more  closely,  since  the  poem  in  question  may 
have  been  written  some  time  before  1612. 

I,  i,  119.  The  comparison  of  an  alliance  of  policy  or  marriage  to  the  Gordian 
knot  occurs  in  Bussy,  IV,  i,  226-7. 

I,  i,  122-3.    Cf.  Bussy,  II,  i,  98-9 : 

his  curled  brows 
Which  he  had  oft  wrapt  in  the  sky  with  storms. 

I,  i,  137.    Aversation  :   a  Chapman  word.     It  occurs  in  his  translation  of  the 

Iliad  (XXII,  2I31),  and  in  The  Revenge  of  Bussy,  III,  iv,  8. 
I,  i,  190.     Circles  being  call'd  ambitious  lines.     There  is  probably  a  pun  here  on 

the  etymological  meaning  of  ambitious,  from  ambire,   and  its  ordinary 

sense. 
I,  i,  193.    This  metaphor,  which  likens  the  mind  of  a  courtier  to  a  pliant  piece 

of  leather,  is  found  in  a  somewhat  altered  form  in  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  iii, 

56-7. 
I,  i,  196-202.    This  contrast  between  a  standing  lake  and  a  river  gathering 

strength  as  it  Cows  reappears  in  Chapman's  Of  Friendship,  one  of  the  poems 

attached  to  Petrarch's  Seven  Penitential  Psalms,  1612  (Poems,  p.  156).     The 

simile  of  the  river  is  found  also  in  De  Guiana,  1596  (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  than  in  the  parallel  passages. 
I,  i,  209.     The  subject  of  drown  is  envy. 
I,  i,  221.     Statists  ;  a  recurrent  word  in  Chapman.    See  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  iv, 

253,  and  Caesar  and  Pompey,  I,  i,  91. 
I,  i,  242.     I  take  this  line  to  be  an  ejaculation — half   aside   perhaps — called 

forth  by  Montmorency's  reluctant  consent  to  the  plot  against  Chabot. 

It  might  be  paraphrased  :    '  Why  that's  right ;   we  shall  make  something 

put  of  him  [Montmorency]  yet '. 
It  ii.    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,  28.     Your  either' 's :    an  archaic  use,  but  later  by  many  years  than  the 

example  (1548)  of  the  inflected  use  of  either  as  a  pronoun  given  in  the  New 

English  Dictionary  ;   cf.  Chapman's  Odyssey,  IV,  79 : 

Your  either  person  in  his  presence  brings. 

It  ii,  42-3.  A  millstone  is  said  to  be  '  picked '  when  its  surface  has  been 
freshly  indented  so  that  it  may  grind  better.  Cf.  a  line  in  Chapman's 
Hymn  to  Christ  upon  the  Cross: 

Blunts  the  pick'd  quarry  so,  'twill  grind  no  more. 

Poems,  p.  144. 

I,  ii,  98.  Ate,  the  Grecian  goddess  of  strife,  daughter  of  Zeus,  who  hurled  her 
from  heaven  for  having  conspired  with  Hera  against  Hercules.  See 
Iliad,  XIX,  91,  seq.,  and  126,  seq. : 

All  things  are  done  by  Strife,  that  ancient  seed  of  Jove, 
Ate,  that  hurts  all. 

*Ate,  that  had  wrought 
This  anger  by  Saturnia,  by  her  bright  hair  he  caught 

.     .     .     .     Thus,  swinging  her  about, 
He  cast  her  from  the  fiery  heaven. 

Chapman's  Iliad. 

l»   iij  121,  123.     Wojnot.    This  ancestor  of  our  modern  colloquial  'won't' 
does  not  appear  in  any  other  play  by  Chapman.     Its  presence  in  the  text 
may  be  regarded  as  a  sure  sign  of  Shirley's  revising  hand.    Shirley,  like 
1  Homer's  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  p.  260. 


NOTES  641 

his  master  Fletcher,  is  fond  of  using  colloquial  contractions,  such  as 
'  wo'not ',  '  sha'not ',  '  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 
Duke's  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. 

I,  ii,  124-45.  There  is  no  mention  of  this  case  of  the  honest  merchant  in 
Pasquier,  who  attributes  Chabot's  fall  to  the  fickleness  of  the  King — 
'  aussi  commenca-il  [Francis]  avecq'  le  temps  de  se  lasser  de  luy  [Chabot],  & 
en  fin  il  luy  despleut  tout  &  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 
of  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. 

I,  ii,  153-4.    With  the  diction  of  these  lines  cf.  Caesar  and  Pompey,  III,  i,  61-3  . 

So  have  I  seen  a  fire-drake  glide  at  midnight 
Before  a  dying  man  to  point  his  grave, 
And  in  it  stick  and  hide. 

I,  ii,  155.    With  these  words  Chabot  tears  the  bill ;    cf.  the  next  scene  (II, 

i,  7-9)- 

n,  i.  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  incident  of  Chabot's 
tearing  the  bill  with  the  King's  name  is  an  invention  of  Shirley's.  It  does 
not  appear  in  Pasquier.  Signs  of  Shirley's  hand  are  seen  in  such  heavy 
enjambements  as  appear  in  11.  ii  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  Massinger,  with  whom  it  is  very  frequent.  I  note 
thirteen  instances  of  such  a  dissolution  in  Shirley's  Cardinal. 

n,  i,  88-9.  This  reminiscence  of  Julius  Caesar,  I,  ii,  135-6,  seems  to  me  rather 
like  Shirley  than  Chapman. 

n,  i,  48-7.  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  changes, 
theatrically  effective,  rather  than  psychologically  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. 

H  ii.  This  scene  is  essentially  Chapman's,  although  Shirley's  revising  hand 
is  occasionally  visible.  Thus  the  first  ten  lines  may  be  Shirley's,  but  the 
speech  of  Allegre  (11.  11-26)  is  characteristically  Chapman's.  Note  the 
phrase  enter1  d  minion,  (1. 13)  and  compare  enter  a  courtier,  Bussy,  I,  ii,  83.  Note 
the  elaborate  and  involved  construction  of  11.  14-19  which  evidently 
puzzled  the  compositors,  or  proof-reader,  of  the  quarto  (see  Text  Notes,  p.  650). 
Note  the  classical  reference  to  the  Cyclops  (1.  20)  as  the  artificer  of  Vulcan, 
a  repeated  reference  in  Chapman,  Bussy,  IV,  ii,  37  ;  Caesar  and  Pompey, 
II,  v,  4. 

n,  ii,  58-7.  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  mouth  :  '  Qu'il 
faisoit  pavois  de  sa  conscience  '. 

II,  ii,  63.     This  use  of  digest  is  characteristic  of  Chapman.     See  Bussy,  IV, 
i,  164  ;    Revenge  of  Bussy,  V,  i,  2  ;    Caesar  and  Pompey,  II,  v,  9. 

H,  ii,  84-5.  Cf .  a  parallel  passage  in  Byron's  Conspiracy,  I,  ii,  40-4,  and  another 
in  Chapman's  early  poem,  The  Shadow  of  Night,  1594  (Poems,  p.  7).  Here, 
addressing  Hercules,  he  says : 

C.D.W.  T  T 


642  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 

Bend  thy  brazen  bow  against  the  sun, 
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  himself]  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.' 

n,  iii.    This  scene  is  essentially  Chapman's.     It  is  possible  that  a  cut  made 
by  Shirley  has  led  to  the  confusion  at  1.  134  (see  Text  Notes  p.  651),  but 
1  can  see  no  other  trace  of  the  younger  dramatist. 
II,  iii,  11.     Spoken  with  a  contemptuous  gesture. 
n,  iii,  17-8.   Cf.  Summum  jus  summa  injuria.     Cicero,  De  Officiis,  I,  x,  33,  cites 

this  as  a  proverb  already  threadbare. 

n,  iii,  26.  The  subject  of  should  thunder  is '  they '  understood,  i.e.  honours 
and  fortunes,  cf.  1.  24.  This  omission  of  the  subject  when  it  can  be  supplied 
from  the  context  is  frequent  in  Chapman. 

H,  iii,  50.  Forc'd  issues  :  this  trial  of  strength  which  has  been  forced  upon  me. 
n,  iii,  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  I'Ordre, 
Admiral  de  France,  Lieutenant  General  du  Roy  au  pais  &  Duche  de 
Bourgongne,  Conseiller  au  conseil  Prive,  &  en  outre  Lieutenant  General 
de  Monsieur  le  Dauphin  aux  Gouvernements  de  Dauphine  et  de  Nor- 
mandie  '.  The  title  '  Count  Byzanges  ',  1.  69,  is  an  anglicising  of  Chabot's 
title  of  Comte  de  Buzancois  (see  Laboreur-Castelnau,  vol.  ii,  p.  567). 
The  Order  (1.  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,  iii,  89-92.  With  this  passage  compare  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  iv,  219-23. 

The  verbal  similarity  shows  them  to  be  by  the  same  hand. 
n,  iii,  100-1.   '  Comparing  my  bounties  and  your  services  in  order  to  measure 

their  respective  depths.' 

II,  iii,  107-15.  The  King's  threat  and  Chabot's  answer  come  direct  from 
Pasquier,  p.  569  :  '  Un  jour  entre  autres  il  [Francis]  le  menaca  de  le  mettre 
6s  mains  de  ses  Juges,  pour  luy  estre  fait  son  proces  extraordinaire.  A 
quoy  1'Admiral  ne  remettant  devant  ses  yeux  combien  c'est  chose  danger- 
euse  de  se  jotier  a  son  Maistre,  luy  respondit  d'une  facon  fort  altiere,  que 
c' estoit  ce  qu'il  demandoit,  scachant  sa  conscience  si  nette,  qu'il  ne  pouvoit 
estre  faite  aucune  bresche,  ny  a  ses  biens,  ny  a  sa  vie,  ny  as  on  honneur. 
.  .  .  Cette  response  despleust  tant  au  Roy,  que  soudain  il  fit  decerner  une 
commission  contre  luy '. 
With  1.  112  cf.  Caesar  and  Pompey,  III,  i,  36  : 

Free  minds,  like  dice,  fall  square  whate'er  the  cast. 
II,  iii,  124.     Swinge  :  one  of  Chapman's  favourite  words. 

n,  iii,  127-39.  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,  honours, 
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  1.  135  (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,  iii,  144-5.  Compare  similar  figures  in  V,  i,  36-9,  and  V,  iii,  182-4-  There 
is  a  somewhat  similar  figure  in  Shirley's  The  Duke's  Mistress  (1636),  III,  iii : 

You  kill 

My  ambition  with  a  frown,  and  with  one  angry 
Lightning  shot  from  your  eye  turn  me  to  ashes. 

U,  iii,  161.  Grave  toys ;  trifles  exaggerated  to  criminal  acts  by  the  lawyer's 
perverse  ingenuity, 


NOTES  643 

II,  iii,  156.    Hits  f  th'  teeth :  reproaches  the  receiver  with  the  gift. 

n,  iii,  166.     '  In  giving  merits  their  due  rewards.' 

II,  iii,  172.    A  moist  palm  was  a  sign  of  liberality,  as  a  dry  and  itching  one 

was  of  avarice  and  greed ;    cf.  Othello,  III,  iv,  31-8,  and  Julius  Caesar, 

IV,  iii,  9-12. 
II,  iii,  186.     Pavian  thraldom :   Francis  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Spanish  at 

the  battle  of  Pavia,  1525,  and  suffered  a  harsh  imprisonment  at  Madrid. 

He  was  only  released  on  the  most  humiliating  conditions. 
II,  iii,  209.   The  Chancellor  pretends  to  think  that  the  King  is  laying  a  trap 

for  him. 
II,  iii,  226-6.  This  metaphor,  which  likens  justice  to  a  royal  eagle  in  fiery 

flight,  reminds  one  of  Bussy,  III,  ii,  4-5 : 

Thou  shalt  be  my  eagle, 
And  bear  my  thunder  underneath  thy  wings. 

See  note  ad  loc. 

HI,  i.  This  scene  seems  to  me  almost  wholly  the  work  of  Shirley.  The 
simplicity  and  clearness  of  diction  and  construction,  the  lively  dialogue, 
the  occasional  heavy  enjambements  (see  11.  125,  149,  150),  and  the  abbrevi 
ations  '  don't ',  1.  6,  '  sha'  not ',  1.  19,  '  wo"  not ',  1.  101,  all  point  to  the 
younger  dramatist.  The  elaboration  of  the  Queen's  jealousy  of  the  wife, 
and  the  Queen's  sudden  change  of  heart,  are  also  in  the  style  of  the  later 
drama.  The  whole  scene,  in  short,  is  at  once  too  simple,  too  lucid  and  too 
sentimental  to  be  the  work  of  Chapman. 

HI,  i,  29-81.  There  may  be  a  reference  here  to  the  glass  furnaces  erected  in 
or  near  London  by  Sir  Robert  Mansell  some  tune  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. 

Ill,  i,  86.  Planet-struck  :  I  have  noted  this  expression,  meaning  '  struck  with 
sudden  fear,'  'bewildered,'  twice  over  in  one  of  Shirley's  plays,  The  Maid's 
Revenge,  III,  i,  and  V,  iii.  It  does  not,  so  far  as  I  know,  occur  anywhere 
in  Chapman. 

HI,  i,  48.  My  lord,  i.e.  Montmorency,  who  goes  to  summon  the  wife  into  the 
Queen's  presence,  while  the  latter  continues  her  conversation  with  the 
Treasurer. 

in,  i,  109-10.     Cf.  The  Spanish  Tragedy,  I,  ii,  172 : 

So  hares  may  pull  dead  lions  by  the  beard. 

See  also  King  John,  II,  i,  137,  where  this  expression  is  spoken  of  as  a 
'  proverb. 
m,  i,  166y7.     To  vie  .  .  .  passion :    the  phrase  is  taken  from  the  language 

of  gaming.     See  note  on  Byron's  Tragedy,  IV,  ii,  107. 

m,  i,  163-5.  This  dogma  of  unquestioning  obedience  is  certainly  Shirley's, 
not  Chapman's.  Compare  as  a  contrast  Strozza's  well-known  speech  in 
The  Gentleman  Usher,  V,  iv,  56-60,  quoted  on  p.  552. 

Ill,  i,  191.  This  line  seems  an  echo  of  a  passage  in  The  Widow's  Tears,  V, 
iii,  45-6: 

Truth'  pace  is  all  upright,  sound  everywhere, 
And  like  a  die  sets  ever  on  a  square. 

HI,  i,  215-6,  218-26.  The  friendly  spirit  displayed  by  Montmorency  for 
Chabot  in  these  lines  and  the  regret  he  feels  for  the  false  position  in  which 
Court  intrigues  have  placed  him  is,  of  course,  quite  unhistorical.  See  the 
Introduction  to  this  play. 

HI,  ii.  This  scene  is  almost  wholly  Chapman's.  The  elaborate  prose  speeches 
are  much  more  in  his  style  than  Shirley's ;  and  the  fidelity  with  which 
the  author  reproduces  his  sources  is  also  a  mark  of  the  older  writer.  Shirley 
has  touched  up  the  scene  here  and  there,  and  seems  to  have  imitated  it 
in  The  Traitor,  III,  j.  If  this  be  so,  Shirley  must  have  known  Chabot  in 
MS.  before  1631. 


644  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 

HI,  ii,  58-9.    With  the  pun  on  Brutus,  cf.  Hamlet,  III,  ii,  109-10. 

Ill,  ii,  61.  Chopped  logic :  a  once  familiar  phrase  in  which  the  verb  has 
the  old  sense  of  '  chop  ',  i.e.  '  barter  ',  '  exchange  '.  The  phrase,  however, 
always  implies  irreverent  or  unbecoming  argument  with  a  superior,  as  of 
a  child  with  a  parent,  or  a  subject  with  a  king.  Cf.  All  Fools,  I,  ii,  51. 

HI,  ii,  77-83.  Pasquier,  pp.  570-1,  cites  the  beginning  of  the  sentence  upon 
Chabot.  It  declares,  with  much  verbiage  as  to  the  Admiral's  disloyalty 
and  oppression,  that  he  has  '  sous  ombre  de  son  Admiraute,  pris  &  exige 
es  annees  1536  &  trente  et  sept  vingt  sous  sur  les  pescheurs  de  la  coste  de 
Normandie,  qui  es  dites  annees  ont  este  aux  harengaisons,  &  la  somme 
de  six  livres  sur  chacun  bateau  qui  estoit  alle  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. 

HI,  ii,  80.  Poor  Johns  :  I  find  this  slang  term  for  sailors  in  Shirley's  The 
Duke's  Mistress,  II,  i. 

Ill,  ii,  89.  Embers  :  four  periods  of  fasting  of  three  days  each,  appointed  by 
the  Council  of  Placentia  (1095)  for  the  Wednesday,  Friday  and  Saturday 
after  (a)  the  first  Sunday  in  Lent,  (b)  Whit-Sunday,  (c)  Holy  Cross  Day 
(Sept.  14),  (d)  St.  Lucia's  Day  (Dec.  13). 

HI,  ii,  97.  Giantism  against  heaven  :  a  true  Chapman  phrase.  So  in  Bussy, 
III,  ii,  144-7,  a  favourite's  insolence  is  compared  to  the  warfare  of  the  earth- 
born  giant  upon  J  ove  ;  see  note  ad  loc. 

DI,  ii,  99-103.  Chapman  is  following  here  the  language  of  the  sentence  as 
quoted  by  Pasquier,  which  mentions  the  Admiral's  '  infidelitez,  desloyautez, 
&  desobeissances  envers  nous,  oppression  de  nostre  pauvre  peuple,  forces 
publiques,  exactions  indues,  commissions,  impressions,  ingratitudes, 
contemnement  &  mespris,  tant  de  nos  comm  an  dements,  que  defenses, 
entreprises  sur  nostre  authorite,  &  autres  fautes,  abbus,  &  malversations, 
crimes  &  delits  ',  p.  570. 

HI,  ii,  112-4.     Compare  the  anecdote  recounted  by  Bacon,  Apothegms,  No.  2. 

in,  ii,  133.     This  line  looks  to  me  suspiciously  like  an  insertion  by  Shirley. 

HI,  ii,  137-9.     Parturiunt  monies,  nascetur  ridiculus  mus. 

Horace,  Ars  Poetica,  1.  139. 

in,  ii,  190-207.  The  Chancellor's  savage  attack  upon  Chabot  is  based  upon 
Pasquier's  account  of  the  trial.  When  it  was  discovered  that  no  charges 
of  any  importance  could  be  brought  against  the  Admiral,  the  judges  were 
disposed  to  treat  him  mildly,  '  mais  le  Chancelier  voyant  que  le  roy 
affectionnoit  la  condemnation  de  leur  prisonnier,  commenca  de  se  roidir 
contre  son  innocence,  aux  yeux  de  toute  la  compagnie  ',  p.  570. 

in,  iii,  208-24.  Pasquier  says  that  before  the  sentence  was  signed,  '  le  rap 
porteur  du  proces  luy  en  apporta  la  minute,  non  pour  la  corriger  tout  & 
fait,  mais  bien  pour  voir  s'il  y  avoit  quelques  obmissions  par  inadvertence. 
Toutesfois  pour  contenter  son  opinion,  se  donnant  plaine  carriere,  le 
change  selon  que  sa  passion  le  portoit,  &  estant  de  ceste  facon  radoube ; 
1'envoye  &  tous  les  autres  Conseillers  pour  le  soubsigner.  Ce  que  du 
commencement  ils  refuserent  de  faire,  mais  les  violentant  d'une  continue, 
&  de  menaces  estranges,  ils  furent  contraincts  de  luy  obeir  :  Voire  que  1'un 
d'eux  mit  au  dessous  de  son  seing,  un  petit  V  du  commencement,  &  vers 
la  fin  un  I,  ces  deux  lettres  jointes  ensemble  faisans  un  VI,  pour  denoter 
qu'il  1' avoit  sign6  par  contrainte ',  p.  570. 

m,  ii,  233-5.  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  the  sentence.  Chabot,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  condemned  to  pay  a 
fine  of  1,500,000  livres,  and  to  suffer  banishment  and  confiscation  of  his 
goods.  Poyet  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  1.  238  is  unhistorical ; 
but  Pasquier,  p.  571,  says  :  '  Ce  grand  Roy,  comme  il  est  grandement 
vraysemblable,  souhaitoit  en  1' arrest  condemnation  demort,  pour  accomplir 


NOTES  645 

puis  apres  un  trait  absolu  de  misericorde,  envers  celuy  dont  il  ne  pouvoit 
oublier  1'amitie '. 

IV,  i.  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 
play.  I  take  the  first  120  lines  or  so  to  be  mainly  Shirley's.  The  lines  in 
which  the  Wife  entreats  Francis  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  Mistress,  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  on 
the  hand  of  Chapman  is  clearly  visible,  especially  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. 

IV,  i,  14-6.  Dyce  in  his  edition  of  Chabot  pointed  out  the  likeness  of  this 
simile  to  a  passage  in  Peele's  David  and  Bethsabe — Second  chorus  (Works 
vol.  ii,  p.  29-30,  Bullen's  edition)  : 

Like  as  the  fatal  raven  . 

Flies  by  the  fair  Arabian  spiceries, 
Her  pleasant  gardens  and  delightsome  parks, 
Seeming  to  curse  them  with  his  hoarse  exclaims, 
And  yet  doth  stoop  with  hungry  violence 
Upon  a  piece  of  hateful  carrion. 

Mr.  Bullen  points  out  that  the  original  of  this  simile  is  found  in  Du 
Bartas: 

Ainsi  que  les  corbeaux  d'une  penne  venteuse 
Passans  les  bois  pleurans  de  V Arabic  heureuse, 
Mesprisent  les  jardins  et  pares  delicieux, 
Qui  de  fleurs  esmaillez  vont  parfumant  les  cieux, 
Et  s'arrestent,  gloutons,  sur  la  salle  carcasse 
D'un  criminel  rompu  n'aguere  a  coups  de  masse. 
VArche — Premiere  Par  tie  du  Second  Jour  de  la  Seconde  Semainc. 

Sylvester's  translation  of  Du  Bartas  renders  this  passage  as  follows: 

Even  as  the  Rav'ns  with  windy  wings  o'erfly 
The  weeping  Woods  of  Happy  Araby, 
Despise  sweet  Gardens  and  delicious  Bow'ers 
Perfuming  Heav'n  with  oderiferous  ftowres, 
And  greedy,  light  upon  the  loathsome  quarters 
Of  some  late  Lopez,  or  such  Romish  Martyrs. 

Sylvester,  Works  (Chertsey  Worthies,  vol.  i,  p.  136). 

The  '  Lopez  '  of  this  passage  is  the  famous  Dr.  Lopez,  Queen  Elizabeth's 
physician,  a  Portuguese  Jew,  hanged  for  high  treason  on  June  7,  1594. 

Mr.  Bullen  points  out  another  imitation  in  the  anonymous  play  which 
he  published  for  the  first  time  under  the  title  of  The  Distracted  Emperor 
in  Old  English  Plays : 

But  as  the  ravens,  which  in  Arabia  live, 
Having  flown  all  the  field  of  spices  o'er, 
Seize  on  a  stinking  carcase. 

Old  English  Plays,  vol.  iii,  p.  237. 

It  is  interesting  to  trace  a  simile  of  this  sort  running  from  the  morning 
of  Elizabethan  drama  in  Peele  to  its  sunset  in  Shirley.  Owing  to  the  uncertain 
ty  as  to  the  dates  of  David  and  Bethsabe  and  the  Distracted  Emperor,  it  is 
difficult  to  say  which  of  these  plays  borrowed  from  the  other,  or  whether 
both  of  them  drew  independently  from  Du  Bartas.  Sylvester's  translation 


646  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  CHABOT 

of  this  portion  of  the  Huguenot  poet's  work  does  not  seem  to  have  ap 
peared  before  Peele's  death,  which  occurred  before  1598. 

IV,  i,  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. 

IV,  i,  46.     Wo'not :  another  mark  of  Shirley's  hand. 

IV,  i,  57.  Fable :  the  use  of  this  word  iii  the  sense  of  '  byword '  occurs  in 
Shirley,  The  Duke's  Mistress,  I,  ii ;  I  do  not  think  it  is  ever  so  used  by 
Chapman. 

IV,  i,  74.  '  Prevent  a  marble  memorial  bearing  an  honest  eulogy  from  being 
erected  as  my  epitaph.' 

IV,  i,  85.  Made  against:  influenced  against,  won  over  to  the  conspiracy 
against. 

IV,  i,  123.  From  here  on  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,  1.  130,  are  surely  his. 

IV,  i,  136-7.  On  a  somewhat  similar  expression,  '  though  Kings'  sons  dance 
in  nets  they  may  not  be  seen  ',  Greene's  Pandosto  (Works,  vol.  iv,  p.  293), 
Mr.  Hazlitt  notes,  '  alluding  to  the  old  story  of  the  fisherman's  daughter, 
who  was  ordered  to  dance  before  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 '. 

IV,  i,  165.  '  Let  the  crown ',  i.e.  the  King,  '  end  the  matter ',  i.e.  by  issuing 
orders  for  the  execution. 

IV,  i,  212-277.  The  interview  between  the  King  and  Chabot  has  bem  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  contenter  vostre  opinion  j'ay  fait  faire  vostre  proces,  &  avez  veu  le 
succes  qu'en  avez  eu  pour  trop  vous  croire :  Maintenant  je  veu*  contenter 
la  mienne,  &  d'une  puissance  absolue  vous  restablir  en  tel  estat  qu'estiez 
auparavant  1' arrest.  A  quoy  1' Admiral  repartit ;  Pour  le  moms,  Sire,  je 
loiie  Dieu  qu'en  tout  mon  proces  il  n'y  a  un  seul  mot  de  f elonnie  [cf .  1.  254] 
que  j'aye  commise,  ou  voulu  commettre  centre  vostre  Majeste.  Ceste 
parole  arresta  tout  court  le  Roy,  lequel  pour  en  estre  esclaircy  decerna 
nouvelle  commission  &  autre  juges  pour  scavoir  s'il  n'avoit  point  este 
attaint  &  convaincu  de  ce  crime  '. 

IV,  i,  295-354.  The  interview  between  the  King  and  the  Chancellor  is  ex 
panded  in  the  same  way  from  a  few  lines  in  Pasquier,  p.  571  :  '  Le  Roy 
ay  ant  veu  1' arrest  commenca  de  se  mocquer  des  juges,  &  sur  tout  de  se 
courroucer  centre  le  Chancelier  qui  luy  avoit  promis  montz  &  merveilles, 
[cf.  1.  324].  .  .  .  [Le  Roy]  voulut  le  proces  estre  fait  au  Chancelier,  a  la 
requeste  de  son  Procureur  General  en  sa  Cour  de  Parlement  de  Paris  '. 

IV,  i,  354.  Our  Advocate :  this  is  the  same  person,  of  course,  as  the  Proctor- 
General  of  III,  ii.  That  he  should  be  called  '  Advocate '  here  and  elsewhere 
in  this  scene  and  in  V,  ii,  points,  I  think,  to  a  revision  which  has  not  been 
consistently  carried  out. 

IV,  i,  364-76.  This  speech,  in  its  elaborate  simile,  involved  construction,  and 
moral  earnestness,  is  pure  Chapman. 

IV,  i,  400.  '  To  play  a  prize '  was  a  common  Elizabethan  phrase  for  a  public 
contest  of  skill  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. 

IV,  i,  405-9.  After  hearing  the  report  of  the  commission  appointed  to  revise 
the  trial  of  Chabot,  the  King  restored  him  to  his  good  name  and  to  the 
royal  favour  by  letters-patent,  dated  March  29,  1541.  A  later  sentence, 
1545,  annulled  the  first  altogether.  See  Pasquier,  pp.  571-2. 

IV,  i,  419-33.  Another  characteristic  Chapman  speech.  With  lines  421-3 
compare  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  iii,  65-7 : 

rude  thunder  yields  to  them 
His  horrid  wings,  sits  smooth  as  glass  englaz'd ; 
And  lightning  sticks  'twixt  heaven  and  earth  amaz'd. 
The  simile  in  11,  436-33  is  eminently  in  Chapman's  manner. 


NOTES  647 

IV,  i,  439-54.     Koeppel  (loc.    cit.)  points  out  the  close  verbal  resemblance 
between  this  speech  and  Pasquier,  p.  572  :    '  Belle  lecon  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.  11.  450-4]. 
Pasquier   continues  :     '  Je  vous   ay  recite   deux   histoires   dont   pourrez 
recueillir  deux  leQons  :   L'une  que  quelque  commission  qu'un  Juge  receive 
de  son  Prince,  il  doit  tousjours  buter  a  la  justice,  [cf.  11.  442-4]  &  non  aux 
passions  de  celuy  qui  le  met  en  oeuvre,  lequel  revenant  avecq'  le  temps  a 
son  mieux  penser,  se  repent  apres  de  sa  soudainete,  &  recognoist  tout  a 
loisir  celuy  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  of  his  original,  borrowing  at  times  its 
very  words,  occurs  over  and  over  again  in  The  Revenge  of  Bussy  and  the 
Byron  plays. 

V,  i.     This  scene,  originally  by  Chapman,  has  been  revised  by  Shirley.     It  is 
impossible,  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. 

V,  i,  16-9.  This  simile  of  the  river  is  a  favourite  one  with  Chapman.  Cf. 
Byron's  Conspiracy,  II,  ii,  188-92,  and  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  iv,  152-8.  I 
fancy  the  original  simile  in  this  passage  has  been  shortened  by  Shirley,  to 
which  the  confusion  in  the  text  is  possibly  due;  see  Text  Notes,  p.  652. 

V,  i,  29-32.  Compare  Bussy,  V,  iv,  90-3.  This  desire  to  meet  death  standing 
is  characteristic  of  Chapman's  heroes. 

V,  i,  86-9.    This  passage,  reminiscent  of  II,  iii,  144-5,  and  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. 

V,  i,  39-81.  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  enjambements,  especially  in  the  King's  speech, 

II.  51-61,  and  in  general  the  somewhat  sentimental  tone  of  the  passage- 
such  a  phrase  as  Alas,  poor  Chabot,  1.  80,  is  not  in  Chapman's  vein. 

V,  i.  81-108.  Chapman's  hand  is  visible  in  the  last  lines  of  this  scene.  I 
think  the  reference  to  the  centaur's  blood,  1.  86,  is  his,  and  the  Father's 
speech,  11.  89-98,  is  wholly  in  his  manner,  and  contaps  one  of  his  peculiar 
adjectives,  numerous,  in  the  sense  of  '  musical ' ;  cf.  Byron's  Conspiracy ', 
1.  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,  ii.  This  scene  is  mainly,  if  not  wholly,  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  lines. 

V,  ii,  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. 

V,  ii,  22-33.    The  idea  of  generation  by  corruption,  burlesqued  in  these  lines, 

was  familiar  to  Chapman. 
V,  ii,  6678.     Compare  the  Advocate's  (or  Proctor-General's)  eulogy  of  Poyet, 

III,  ii,  5-24.     This  '  epic  repetition '  is  characteristic  of  Chapman. 
V,  ii,  87.  Cold  terms :   law  terms  in  which  little  business  is  done. 

V,  ii,  89.     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  for  a  lawyer's  bag  made 
of  this  material. 

V,  ii,  118.     Tiger  of  Hyrcanian  breed :   cf.  Macbeth,  III,  iv,  101. 

V,  ii,  153-76.  This  long  speech  is  wholly  in  Chapman's  manner.  With  the 
phrase,  high-going  sea,  1.  156,  cf.  Byron's  Conspiracy,  II,  i,  150.  In  The 
Duke's  Mistress,  V,  i,  we  have  the  phrase  high-going  waves, 

V,  ii,  169-72.  The  Chancellor's  appeal  to  Chabot,  though  not  mentioned  in 
Pasquier,  is  an  historical  fact,  and  may  have  been  known  to  Chapman. 
Castelnau-Laboreur,  Memoires,  vol.  ii,  p.  572,  prints  a  long  letter  from 
Poyet  to  Chabot,  addressing  him  as  Monseigneur  and  imploring  him  to 
beg  the  King  to  allow  him  to  retire  to  his  house  rather  than  be  led  to  prison ; 
cf.  11.  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.  11.  198-9.  Such 
fidelity  to  historical  details  is  very  characteristic  of  Chapman. 

V.  ii,  179.  The  mouse  in  the  fable  :  I  have  been  unable  to  trace  any  form  of 
the  fable  here  alluded  to. 

V,  ii,  185-95.  Pasquier,  p.  571,  notes  that  among  the  mass  of  testimony 
brought  forward  against  Poyet  '  les  plus  signalez  &  picquans  furent  les 
extraordinaires  deportemens  dont  il  avoit  use  envers  les  juges  au  proces 
de  I'Admiral '.  The  details  of  his  sentence,  somewhat  altered,  are  also  from 
Pasquier,  p.  572  :  '  II  fut  prive  de  1'estat  de  Chancelier,  &  declare  inhabile 
a  tenir  office  Royal ;  &  encores  condamne  en  la  somme  de  cent  mille 
livres  envers  le  Roy,  &  a  tenir  prison  jusques  a  plein  payement,  &  confin6 
jusques  a  cinq  ans  en  tel  lieu  &  seure  garde  qu'il  plairoit  au  Roy  '. 

V,  iii.  There  is  a  sub-stratum  of  Chapman  in  this  scene,  but  it  is  heavily 
overlaid  with  Shirley. 

V,  iii,  52-64.  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  Shirley's. 

V,  iii,  65.  Wonder  in  apprehension :  with  this  phrase,  meaning,  apparently, 
'  a  wonderful  thing  to  apprehend,  or  consider ',  compare  The  Duke's 
Mistress,  III,  i,  strange  apprehension. 

V,  iii,  138-44.  For  the  King's  dissatisfaction  with  the  sentence  'passed  'on 
Poyet  see  the  Introduction  to  this  play,  p.  635. 

V,  iii,  163.  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. 

V,  iii,  167.     Cf.  V,  i,  29-32,  and  the  note  ad  loc. 

V,  iii,  168-9.     Cf.  Byron's  Conspiracy,  III,  ii,  2-3. 

V,  iii,  179-80.     Cf.  Caesar  and  Pompey,  I,  ii,  292,  and  the  note  ad  loc. 

V,  iii,  200-9.  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  taking 
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,  starve 
succession,  1.  227,  apparently  means  '  kill  one's  successor  '  ;  cf.  Trajan's 
saying,  quoted  by  Bacon,  Apothegms,  No.  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  these  pages  by  the  symbols  which  here  accompany  them.  The 
first  Quarto,  1639 1  (Q.) ;  Dyce's  edition2  (D.)  ;  Shepherd's  edition3  (S.)  ; 

1  This  is  the  only  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  acting  copy  and 
the  text  is  in  many  places  very  corrupt.     I  have  consulted  the  copies  at  the  British  Museum 
and  the  Bodleian,  five  in  all. 

2  The  Dramatic  Works  and  Poems  of  Tames  Shirley,  vol.  vi,  1833. 

3  The  Works  of  Chapman—Plays. 


NOTES 


649 


Lehman's  reprint 1  (L.).  Of  these  Dyce  alone  has  really  edited  the  text  • 
Shepherd  in  the  main  depends  on  Dyce,  and  Lehman's  useful  reprint  offer5 
only  a  few  suggested  emendations.  I  have  followed  the  Quarto,  modernizing 
spelling  and  punctuation,  and  marking  all  alterations  in  the  text. 


DRAMATIS    PERSONAE 

Under  the  heading  of  Speakers,  Q.  gives  the  following  list,  which  is  so  confused 
and  faulty  that  I  have  transferred  it  to  this  place. 

Asall.  Chabot. 

Allegre.  Judges. 

King.  Officers. 

Queene.  Secretary. 

Treasurer.  Ushers. 

Chancellor.  Constable. 

Admirall.  Courtiers. 

Father.  Porter. 

Generall.  Guard. 

Of  these  characters  the  Admirall  is,  of  course,  the  same  as  Chabot;  the 
General  does  not  appear  in  the  play,  unless  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»  56.  Q.  any  things  ;    D.  anything. 

68.  S.  inserts  as  before  horrid. 

115.  For  the  last  word  of  the  stage 
direction  after  this  line  Q.  has 
attend. 

119.  Q.  gardian;  D.  emends  gor- 
dian.  L.  says  that  the  Q.  from 
which  he  printed  has  hrigian  in 
this  line.  I  have  not  noticed  the 
omission  of  the  P  in  the  copies 
I  have  consulted. 

127.  Q.  which  for  it  selfe  Sir, 
resolve  to  keepe.  D.  inserts  I  be 
fore  resolve. 

188.  Q.  earth ;  D.  earth[ly]. 

135.  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. 

155.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction,  Exit  Chabot,  after  this 
line. 

158.  In  the  stage  direction  in  this 
line  Q.  has  only  Exit;  D. 
Exeunt  the  King  and  All. 

170.  Q.  increase.  S.  incense,  a 
plausible  conjecture,  cf.  II,  iii,  7  ; 
but  I  think  the  old  reading  is 
intelligible. 


183.  Q.  men  free  borne  slaves;  so 
D.  S.  emends  free-born,  which 
seems  the  true  reading,  since  the 
sense  is  '  too  servile  equity  turns 
free-born  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. 

189.  Q.  natures ;  D.  Nature's  ; 
S.  nature.  I  think  the  noun  is 
plural,  referring  to  the  heavenly 
bodies,  the  stars. 

206.  Q.  /  seeking  ;  so  D.  and  S. ; 
but  I  think  it  plain  that  In  is 
the  true  reading,  /  haying  been 
caught  from  the  next  line. 

220.  Q.  shadder.  D.  emends  shud 
der.  Perhaps  we  might  read 
shatter. 

I,  ii,  10.  Q.  service  ;  so  D.  and  S.  It 
seems  plain  to  me  that  an  s  has 
dropped  off  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. 

83.  Q.  ingenious ;  D.  ingenuous. 
See  text  note  on  Bussy,  III,  ii,  107. 


1  The  Traeedie  of  Chabot— Publications   of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania— Series  in 
Philology  and  Literature,  vol.  x,  Philadelphia,  1906. 


650 


THE  TRAGEDY   OF  CHABOT 


52.  Q.  While  inforc'd  shew  ;  so  D. 
S.  emends  White  in  forced  show, 
which  seems  to  be  the  true  read 
ing. 

60.  Q.  ambitious  boundlesse  ;  so  D. 
and  S.  ;  but  it  seems  clear  that 
ambitious  is  a  misprint  of  the 
commonest  sort,  u  for  n,  for 
ambitions,  which  word  occurs  im 
mediately  below  in  1.  66.  The 
alteration  involves  the  placing  of 
a  comma  after  boundless. 

67.  Q.   no  hazard ;  so    D.   and  S. 
Perhaps    we    should    read    not 
hazard. 

68.  Realities,    a    misprint    in    this 
text  for  the  true  reading  of  Q., 
realties,  i.e.  '  royal  powers  '. 

98.  Q.   A    he;     D.    emends    Ate. 

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  (i.e. 
power  is)  against  it ;  but  have 
hesitated  to  introduce  this  con 
jecture  into  the  text. 

121,  123.  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. 

II,  i,  23.  Q.  As  in  this  braine  more 
circumscrib'dallwisedome  ;  so  D. 
S.  emends  his  brain  were,  etc., 
which  seems  the  true  reading. 

27.  Q.  lately.     S.  alters  to  late. 

29.  Q.  Urge;  D.  emends  Urged. 
The  Q.  reading  is  probably  a  mis 
print  for  Urgd. 

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. 

II,  ii,  6.  Q.  has  an  interrogation  mark 
at  the  end  of  this  line.  As  often 
in  Elizabethan  printing  this  indi 
cates  an  exclamation. 

14.  Q.  Since  tis  but  patience  some 
time  they  thinke  ;  so  D.  and  S. 
But  it  seems  clear  that  the  sub 
ject  of  thinke  must  be  he,  as  in 
1.  IT.  I  therefore  read  he  and 
thinks,  and  interpret  the  whole 


passage,  11. 11-19,  as  follows  : '  Yes, 
for  he  is  afraid,  being  but  a 
newly  established  favourite,  to  be 
too  insolent  in  his  demeanour  to 
ward  the  King,  until  the  time 
comes  when  he  dare  act  with  the 
fiery  zeal  his  faction  would  like 
to  see  in  him.  Till  then  he  be 
lieves  in  being  patient,  for  the 
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] 
dry'. 

33.  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.  arriv'd.  Should  we  read 
arm'd  ? 

53.  Q.  walke.  L.  prints  wake,  but 
the  I  in  the  copies  I  have  seen  is 
very  faint,  and  may  be  quite 
obliterated  hi  L.'s  copy.  Walke 
is  certainly  the  true  reading. 

56-7.  Q.  My  innocence  is,  which  is  a 

conquering  justice, 
As    weares  a    shield,    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,  1.  53. 

77.  Q.  The  judgement,  and  favour. 
S.  inserts  the  before  favour,  an 
unnecessary  change  which  has 
crept  into  my  text. 

87.  Q.  He  cares  for  gaine  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  exclaims  that  the  Ad 
miral  cares  neither  for  gain  nor 
honour  (i.e.  office  or  fame)  ;  to 
which  the  Chancellor  replies,  '  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. 

II,  iii,  16.  Q.  kingdomes  ;  D.  and  S. 
kingdoms  ;  but  Francis  did  not 


NOTES 


have  several  kingdoms.  The 
word  is  plainly  in  the  possessive 
case  after  strength. 

32.  Q.  Kings ;  so  D.  S.  prints 
kings',  which  is  plainly  correct. 

48.  Q.  That  mony,  cares,  etc.  D. 
and  S.  print  money,  cares.  But 
the  true  reading  is  plainly  many 
cares.  Chabot  is  telling  how  he  has 
spent  cares,  pains,  and  years  in 
acquiring  his  present  threatened 
fortunes.  He  is  not  boasting  of 
the  money  he  has  laid  out. 

54.  Q.  has  a  question  mark,  equiva 
lent  to  an  exclamation,  at  the 
close  of  this  line.  D.  and  S.  re 
tain  it,  but  I  think  the  passage 
reads  better  without  it. 

102-3.  The  question  mark  after 
1.  102  was  inserted  by  D.  I  have 
retained  his  reading,  but  think  it 
possible  that  we  should  read 
licences  of  yours  May  give  me. 
Such  an  omission  of  the  subject 
relative  pronoun  is  common  in 
Chapman. 

119-20.  Q.    Weigh   yet,  with   more 

soule  than  danger, 
And  some  lesse  passion. 

So  D.  S.  emends  than  to  the, 
which  is  clearly  correct,  as  soul 
is  contrasted  with  passion,  and 
danger  must  be  the  object  of 
weigh.  I  have  omitted  to  mark, 
the  emendation  of  S.  in  my  text 

132.  I  have  inserted  a  question 
mark  at  the  close  of  this  line  ; 
Q.,  D.  and  S.  have  a  comma,  but 
I  believe  the  sense  is  unproved 
by  this  change.  The  whole 
passage  from  1.  126  to  1.  142  is 
difficult  and  perhaps  corrupt. 

134.  Q.  effects  and  cannot  informe 
him ;  so  D.  and  S.  Brereton 
(loc.  cit.)  suggests  that  the  words 
cannot  inform*  him  were  a  mar 
ginal  comment,  which  has  crept 
into  the  text,  telling  the  printer 
that  some  one  could  not  inform 
him  [the  printer]  what  word  was 
missing  after  and.  This  is  in 
genious,  but  it  seems  clear  that 
cannot  must  belong  to  the  original 
text,  since  use,  1.  135,  depends 
upon  it. 

140.  Q.  in  this  reason  ;  so  D.  and 
S. ;  but  it  seems  plain  that 
reason  is  a  verb,  equivalent  to 
'  reflect ' ;  this  means  '  this 
case  ',  '  this  situation  '. 

154.  Q.  of ;  so  D.  and  S. ;   but  it 


is  plainly  an  old  spelling  for  off. 

For  stick  off  see  Hamlet,  V,  ii.  268. 
182.  Q.  prints  my  Lord  as  a  separate 

line  ;  so  D.  and  S. ;  but  it  plainly 

belongs  at  the  close  of  1.  182. 
205-6.     Q.    prints    as    three  lines 

ending  life,  life,  act. 

207.  Q.  finer.     D.  emends  fibre. 
HI,  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  1.  88. 

53.  Q.  contempts  ;  S.  contempt's, 
which  is  certainly  wrong. 

56.  /  desire.     Q.  prints  as  a  separ 
ate  line. 

57.  I  have  added  the'stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

88.  I  have  inserted  the  stage  direc 
tion  in  this  line. 
98.  Q.  this  ;   L.  suggests  his  ;  but 

no  change  is  needed. 
111.  112.     I  have  inserted  the  stage 

directions  in  these  lines. 
130.  Q.  every  ;    so  D.     S.  emends 

ever. 

151.  Q.  still ;  so  D.     S.  emends  till. 
153.  Q.  talke ;  D.  emends  take. 
163.  Q.  Suffer  are  bound  to  suffer  ; 

D.    emends    the    first    word    to 

Subjects. 
169.  D.  adds  the  direction  [Kneels 

to  this  line. 

208.  D.  adds  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

m,ii,l.  Q-  Mr.  Proctor.  So  also  hi  1.30. 

10.  Q.  Poyeni ;  D.  and  S.  Poyein. 

I  prefer  to  use  the  original  Greek 

form  iroieiv. 

16-7.  Q.  so  notable  in  the  progress  ; 
so  D.  and  S.  It  seems  to  me 
that  in  the  progress  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. 

62.  Q.  advance.  D.  emends  ad 
vanced. 

101.  Q.  neither  inf round  or  respected 
his  disloyalties.  D.  emends  in 
formed  or  respected,  joining  his 
disloyalties  with  what  follows. 
L.,  p.  119,  would  read  informed  or 
suspected  his  disloyalties.  I  much 
prefer  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  lords,  to 
agree  with  yourselves. 

109.  Q.  least.     L.  prints  lost. 

123.  Q.  conscience.  L.,  p.  119, 
takes  this  to  be  a  misprint  for 
conscious,  but  conscience  is  plainly 
a  noun  meaning  '  consciousness  ' 
and  the  object  of  urge,  1.  125. 
L.'s  explanation  of  the  passage 
seems  to  me  faulty. 

142.  Q.  shaddow.  D.  emends 
shadows. 

162.  Q.  chines  crackes.  D.  alters  to 
crack  :  but  the  old  grammatical 
form  should  be  retained. 

164.  D.  inserts  Zw^before  The  subject. 

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. 

204.  Q.  roVd  and.  A  word  has 
dropped  from  the  end  of  the  line. 
D.  suggests  violate. 

220.  Q.  On  this  side,  and  on  this 
side,  this  capital  I.  L.  inserts  V. 
after  the  first  side.  Cf.  IV,  i, 
332-5- 

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  line  to  prepare  for  the 
subsequent  entrance  of  Asall, 

1.    120. 

85.  Q.  made.     Perhaps  we  might 

read  mad. 
98-9.  Q.   prints  He  is  .  .  .  mine 

as  one  line. 
102-3.  Q.  Lawes  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  Exetmt  after  lady,  but  this 

direction  should  come  after  1.121. 

D.  emends  it  so  as  to  show  that 

the  King  remains. 
123-5.  One  of  the  Bodleian  copies, 

Malone,  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. 
185  Q.  bounties,   and  as,  etc.  ;  so 


D.  and  S.  ;  but  and  seems  to  me 
certainly  intrusive. 
271.  Q.  mine.    S.  misprints  time. 
313,  15,  16,  18,  29,  32.  Q.  has  only 
i.  and  2.  for  ist  Judge  and  2nd 
Judge  in  these  lines.     In  1.  326 
Q.  has  lud.  for  Judges. 
322.  Q.    For   every    boat,  and   that 
fished,  etc.     D.  emends  by  drop 
ping  the  intrusive  and. 
343.  Q.  parly.     D.  emends  party. 
345.  Q.     a     thirst.     Perhaps     we 

should  read  athirst. 
370.  L.  prints  out  for  Q.  our. 
403.  Q.  whom.     D.  emends  home. 
V,  i,  17.  Q.  left.     D.  emends  lift. 
19.  Q.    her.     D.    emends   their.     I 
fancy  this  speech,  11.  15-23,  has 
been  cut  in  the  revision. 
61-2.  Q.  prints  He   .  .  .  newes  as 
one  line  ;   /  perceive  as  another. 
64-6.  Q.  prints  as  five  lines  ending 

expect,  Admirall,  life,  had,  him. 
69-  Cj.     With     crushing,    crushing. 
Probably     a      printer's     error, 
though  Shirley  is  given  to  such 
repetitions. 
101.  Q.   bring   health.      D.    inserts 

him  after  bring. 
V,  ii,  13.     Q.  Mr.  Advocate.     So  also 

in  11.  34,  60,  92. 
47.    Q.     fo.-etell;    D.     foretel :    S. 

fortel. 

52-61.  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. 
92-4.  Q.  prints  as  three  lines  of 
verse,  ending  satisfaction,  how, 
A  dmirall. 

124.  Q.  Austria.  D.  emends  Astrcea. 

137.  Q.  guilt  upon  the  Kings  heires, 

a  traytor,  etc.    D.  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  punctuate 
There  doomsday  is — my  con' 
science,  etc. 

168.  Q.  Prickt.  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    afar  for 
far. 

185.  Most  copies  of  Q.  read  you  high 
misdemeanours.  L.,  however, 
prints  your. 

198-9.  Most  copies  of  Q.  omit  the 
name  of  the  speaker.  L.  prints 
it  as  Cha.,  i.e.  Chancellor. 

199.  Q.  /  spend.     D.  emends  /'// 

spend. 
V,  iii,  10.  Q.  hurt.     D.  emends  heart. 

36.  S.  omits  can  blast. 

48.  Q.  sometime.     D.  some  time. 

69.  D.  supplies  the  stage  direction. 

93.  Q.  best  life,  violence.  D.  in 
serts  no  before  violence. 

106.  Q.  dispares  ;    D.  despairs. 

108.  Q.  trenched.  D.  emends 
trencheth. 

134.  I  have  added  to  the  stage 
direction  in  this  line  to  explain 
the  King's  speech,  11.  138-47. 

143.  I  am  not  sure  that  this  line 


is  correct.  We  might  either  read 
unequal,  i.e.  unjust,  or  punctuate 
Chabot.  With  an  equal,  etc. 
But  as  the  passage  is  intelli 
gible  I  have  preferred  to  let  it 
stand. 

167.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction  in  this  line. 

178.  Q.  //  already  falling.  D.  in- 
serts  is  before  already. 

180.  Q.  were  deafe,  so  heavens,  etc. 
So  D.  and  S.  Brereton  \(loc.  cit.) 
suggests  deafe  to  heaven's,  etc. 
This  seems  to  me  an  admirable 
conjecture, 

182.  Q.  prints  as  two  lines,  ending 
live,  Prince. 

197.  Q.  prints  but  as  first  word  of 
1.  198. 

202.  D.  adds  the  stage  direction. 

211-29.  Q.  gives  this  speech  to 
Qu.,  i.e.  Queen.  D.  makes  the 
necessary  correction. 


CESAR  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  drama  pass  over  it  hastily.  Swinbxirne  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  the 
bad  condition  of  its  text.  It  is  not  only  obscure  beyond  even  what 
we  may  expect  in  Chapman,  but  corrupt,  badly  printed,  and  full  of 
puzzles.  The  only  modern  edition  of  the  play  has  added  to  these  a 
peculiarly  irritating  and  confused  set  of  abbreviations  for  the  speakers' 
names.  All  in  all  I  know  few  harder  pieces  of  reading  in  Eliza 
bethan  drama  than  Ceesar  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  peculiar  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 
on  May  18,  1631,  as  follows  :  Master  Harper  entred  for  his  Copye  under 
the  handes  of  Sir  Henry  Herbert  Knight  &•  Master  Harrison  a  Playe 
catted  Casar  and  Pompey  by  George  Chapman.  It  was  published  the 
same  year.1  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  rhythm, 
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 

1  For  the  title-page,  see  p.  677. 

1  Fleav  (Biog.  Chron.,  vol.  i,  pp.  64-5)  says  not  later  than  1608,  based  upon 
an  old  play  of  1594  mentioned  by  Henslowe  under  the  date  of  November  8, 
1594.  Schelling  (Elizabethan  Drama,  vol.  ii,  p.  22)  puts  it  somewhat  later 
than  1607,  and  Swinburne  (George  Chapman,  p.  117)  guesses  that  it  is  about 
the  date  of  Bussy,  i.e.  1604.  This,  I  think,  is  much  too  early  ;  Swinburne's 
instinct  probably  led  him  nearer  the  truth  when  he  remarked  that  it  '  bears 
more  affinity  to  the  Revenge  of  Bussy  and  the  Byron  plays  in  the  main  quality 
of  interest  and  the  predominance  of  speech  over  action. 

655 


656 


GESAR  AND  POMPEY 


second  quarto,  1653,  declares  that  it  was  acted  at  Blackfriars.  This 
statement  might,  no  doubt,  be  taken  as  a  bookseller's  flourish  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  internal  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  Cassar  and  Pompey  is  remarkable 
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  :  Pronto  all 
ragged  in  an  overgrown  red  beard,  black  head,  with  a  halter  in  his  hand.  .  .  . 
Ophioneus  with  the  face,  wings,  and  tail  of  a  dragon  ;  a  skin  coat  all 
speckled  on  the  throat.  Note  the  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  two  Lentuli  and 
Demetrius  bleeding  and  kneel  about  Cornelia  (V,  i)  ;  He  falls  upon  his 
sword,  and  enter  Statilius  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  off  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  scenes,  the  play  is  Chapman's  work  from  beginning  to  end  ;  the 
prose  parts  to  which  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  his  play 
for  the  stage,  than  to  have  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  obtained  by  the 
players  1  at  Blackfriars  and  rehearsed  for  performance,  at  which  time 

1  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  literally,  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 1  or  a  later  publisher 
of  false  statement,  I  prefer  to  acquit  the  poet. 

The  sources  of  Ccesar  and  Pompey  have  been  pointed  out  by  Profes 
sor  Koeppel  (Quellen  und  Forschungen,  1897)  an^  by  Dr.  Kern  (Ccesar 
and  Pompey  und  Ihre  Quellen,  Halle,  1901).  They  are  in  the  main  three 
of  Plutarch's  Lives,  those  o|  Caesar.  Pompey,  and  Ca.fo  Mirror.  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.  657  that  Ccesar  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  identified3  with  the  academic  tragedy  of  Ccesar  and 
Pompey  or  Ccesar' s  Revenue,  published  in  1607.  I  have  discussed 
this  latter  identification3  elsewhere,  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. 
All  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.4 

In  composing  his  Roman  tragedy  Chapman  had  before  him  models 
by  the  greatest  playwrights  of  the  age — Shakespeare,  Julius  Ccesar 
1 60 1,  Antony  and  Cleopatra  1607-8,  Coriolanus  1609,  and  Ben  Jonson 
Sejanus,  1603,  and  Catiline,  161 1.  It  is  plain,  however,  that  Chapman, 
with  his  usual  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  and  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  rather  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  down  to 

1  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. 

a  Craik,  English  of  Shakespeare,  p.  46,  and  Schelling,  Elizabethan  Drama, 
vol.  ii,  p.  548. 

3  Modern  Language  Review,  October,  1910. 

*  See  my  article  above  mentioned  for  a  list  of  Elizabethan  plays  on  Csesar. 

C.D.W.  U  y 


658  CESAR  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  two1  scenes  of  Jonson  than  in  all  Shakespeare's 
plays. 

Chapman,  on  the  other  hand,  aimed  at  quite  another  goal  in  the 
composition  of  Ccesar  and  Pompey.  As  in  his  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  Cgjgar-, 
actually  absent  in  Gaul,  takes  a  conspicuous  part,  but  that  he  may,  by 
LunlidSlIng  TiTm~wTth  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  standing  alone,  fearless  and  free,  against  all 
encroaching  tyranny,  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 

1  Sejanus,  II,  i ;  Catiline,  II,  i. 


INTRODUCTION  659 

set  himself,  like  a  true  son  of  the  Elizabethan  drama,  to  represent 
them  in  action,  rather  than  to  report  them  by  messenger.  But  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  the  artistic  unity  of  the  play  suffers  from  this 
decision. 

Very  evident  proof  of  Chapman's  wavering  between  his  own  theories 
and  the  dramatic  practice  of  his  day  is  afforded  by  his  treatment  of  the 
character  of  Pomp^y.     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   asserting  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,  230-270)  and  his  refusal  of 
the  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  rather 
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   j 
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  still  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  JPompey  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 
speeches  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 — some  have  said  she  was 
the  page  of  Caesar,  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  his 
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  Caesar.  The  true  hero  of  the  tragedy  is,  of  course,  Cato  the 
republican.  In  depicting  the  character  of^Ca^Chapman  has  cut  away 
all  non-essentials  and  fastened  firmly  uporflus  fundamental  and  distin 
guishing  trait.  This  trait,  I  think,  may  be  best  expressed  by  the  phrase 
'  spiritual  independence,'  that  self-sufncienc/of  the  individual  soul,  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  meshes 


660  CESAR  AND  POMPEY 

/  of  a  private  intrigue  of  a  nature  to  obscure,  if  not  to  degrade,  his  stoical 
*  principles,  the  chief  feature  of  Cato's  character  stands  out  against  a 
stormy  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 
through  and  reaches  his  last  great  decision  in  the  same  complete  self- 
possession  that  marked  his  first  action.  No  clash  of  warring  factions, 
no  fall  of  empires,  no  loss  of  outward  hopes — such  is  Chapman's  teach 
ing can  deprive  the  just  man  of  his  spiritual  freedom  : 

Si  fractus  illabitur  orbis 

Impavidum  ferient  ruinae. 

This  freedom,  it  is  interesting  to  note,  rests  in  Cato's  case  upon  pro 
found  religious  conviction.  There  is  an  effective  contrast  drawn  in  the 
play  between  Csesar's  superstitious  belief  in  the  gods  as  the  disposers 
of  outward  events  and  Cato's  reliance  upon  their  eternal  and  unchang 
ing  justice.  And  since  the  just  man  partakes  of  the  nature  of  the 
gods — 

for  his  goodness 

Proceeds  from  them  and  is  a  beam  of  theirs — 

the  gods  are  by  their  very  nature  bound  to  defend  him  who  represents 
their  cause.  But  if  in  their  inscrutable  wisdom  they  withdraw  their 
/  j  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  such 
convictions  that  Cato  acts  throughout  the  play.  He  scorns  the  danger 
that  threatens  him  from  Caesar's  ruffians,  and  rises  in  the  Senate 
to  oppose  Caesar  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  republic,  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  recognized  and  admired  by  all  who 
come  into  contact  with  him.  He  has  '  his  little  Senate  ',  his  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  Caesar,  admits  Cato's 
inaccessibility  to  flattery  or  fear  ;  Pompey  acknowledges  his  '  infinite 
merits  ' ;  and  Caesar,  standing  over  his  corpse,  confesses  that  his  life 
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  Cato. 

So  deep  is  Chapman'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  gift  from  Caesar,  and  to  defend 


INTRODUCTION  661 

suicide  on  the  ground  that  the  just  man  not  only  may,  but  must 
'  enlarge  his  life  from  all  rule  tyrannous  '.  But  when  the  Roman  Stoic 
goes  on  to  profess  his  belief,  not  merely  in  the  immortality  l  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  '  forms  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 — affirming  that  our  little 
life  is  rounded ,with  a  sleep,  or  brooding  in  hopeless  terror  on  what  dreams 
may  come — by  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  fact  that  he  is  here  the  true  mouthpiece 2  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  Ccesar  and  Pompey.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
lustre  which  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  his  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  C&sar  and  Pompey  of  the  pathos  . 
that  hangs  about  the  last  scenes  of  Chapman's  other  tragedies.  The  j 
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  from  the  conflict  as  more  than  conqueror.  There  is  an  external 
likeness,  due,  of  course,  to  the  facts  of  history,  between  the  closing  scenes 
of  C&sar  and  Pompey  and  Shakespeare's  Julius  Caesar.  Brutus^  like 
Cato,  has  fought  to  save  the  republic,  has  lost,  and  lays  Rands  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  maa — 
'  night  hangs  upon  my  eyes  ;  my  bones  would  rest  ',  he  sighs  ;  he  has 
just  strength  enough  to  snatch  himself  from  the  bondage  that  awaits  I? 
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  all 
The  joys  and  horrors  of  their  peace  and  wars, 
And  now  will  see  the  Gods'  state  and  the  stars. 

1  See  V,  i,  141-50 ;   IV,  v,  89-136 ;   V,  i,  134-40. 

1  Kern's  remark  that  in  IV,  v,  89-136,  Cato  defends  the  Christian  doctrine 
of  the  resurrection  by  the  Aristotelian  conception  of  the  necessary  harmony 
between  form  and  matter,  a  conception  familiar  to  Chapman  from  his  uni 
versity  training,  seems  to  establish 'the  identity  of  Cato  and  Chapman. 


662  C^SAR  AND  POMf>EY 

There  is  no  place  here  for  pathos*  '  Nothing  is  for  tears,  nothing  to 
wail,'  the  lines  of  Samson  Agonistes  rise  instinctively  to  the  lips.  In 
Cato's  end  as  in  Samson's  there  is 

Nothing  but  well  and  fair, 
And  what  may  quiet  us  in  a  death  so  noble. 


C^SAR   AND  POMPEY 


NOTES 


The  Earl  of  Middlesex  :  Lionel  Cranfield,  1575-1645,  first 
Earl  of  Middlesex.  A  London  citizen  remarkable  for  his  administrative 
ability,  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 
BuckinghaTTTs~"clispleasure  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 
fined,  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. 

Causelessly  impair  it  :  derogate  without  just  cause  from  its  aesthetic  worth. 

Scenical  representation  :    performance  of  a  play  on  the  stage. 

The  only  section  .  .  .  thus  much  :  '  the  mere  fact  of  its  division  into  acts 
and  scenes  makes  me  insist  upon  to  such  a  degree  '. 

Numerous  elocution  :    metrical  language,  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  1631,  which  we  may  assume 
as  the  date  of  this  dedication,  and  his  death  in  1634. 

DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

Sextus  :  the  younger  son  of  Pompey,  present  with  his  mother  at  the  murder 
of  Pompey. 

Athenodorus  :  a  Stoic  mentioned  in  Cato,  10.  Cato  visited  him  in  Pergamus, 
and,  bringing  him  back  to  Rome,  installed  him  hi  his  house,  where  he 
spent  the  rest  of  his  life,  Strabo,  Geography,  XIV,  v,  14.  He  takes  the  place 
in  Act  V  of  Apollonides  the  Stoic  and  Demetrius  the  Peripatetic,  who  were 
with  Cato  during  his  last  days  in  Utica,  Cato,  65,  67,  69,  70. 

Statilius  :  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. 

Minutius  :  Minutius  Thermus,  a  colleague  of  Cato  and  Metellus  in  the 
tribunate,  63  B.C. 

Metellus:  Q.  Metellus  Nepos,  an  adherent  of  Pompey,  elected  tribune  in 
63  B.C.  Chapman  makes  him  a  tool  of  Caesar,  but  in  Plutarch,  Cato,  20, 
26-29,  he  appears  as  an  advocate  of  Pompey,  assisted  at  this  time  by  Caesar. 

Marcellus.  It  is  not  possible  to  determine  what  character  Chapman  had 
in  mind,  since  this  personage  appears  only  in  one  scene,  I,  ii,  and  does  not 
open  his  mouth  there.  A  Marcellus  is  mentioned  in  Cato,  18,  as  a  friend  of 
Cato's  from  his  boyhood  ;  C.  Claudius  Marcellus  was  consul  in  49  B.C.  the 
year  in  which  the  war  between  Caesar  and  Pompey  began,  Pompey,  58. 

Qabinius  :  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. 

Vibius  :  L.  Vibullius  Rufus,  taken  prisoner  by  Caesar  at  Corfinum  and  again 
in  Spain,  and  dispatched  by  Caesar  as  a  bearer  of  terms  to  Pompey,  Civil 

663 


664  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY 

War,  III,  10.  Plutarch  calls  him  'logics,  which  probably  accounts  for  Chap 
man's  use  of  the  form  Vibius. 

Demetrius:  not  a  Roman  noble,  but  a  freedman  of  Pompey,  Pompey,  40. 
Chapman  makes  him  a  stoic  philosopher  (lV,"Tfi);  and  an  eye-witness  of  Pom- 
pey's  murder,  neither  of  which  corresponds  to  Plutarch's  account. 

The  two  Lentuli  :  mentioned  in  Pompey,  73,  as  taken  on  board  with  Pompey 
on  his  flight  to  Lesbos.  Chapman  makes  them  attendants  of  Cornelia  at 
Lesbos. 

Crassinius  :  Caius  Crassinius,  or  Crassinianus  (C&sar,  44  ;  Pompey,  71), 
a  centurJQU  in  Casar's  army. 


Lcilms  :  an  Acilius,  a  soldier  of  Caesar's,  is  mentioned  in  Casar,  16,  as 
distinguishing  himself  in  tmTsea-nght  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  lieutenant  of  Caesar. 

Achillas  :  an  Egyptian,  who  sat  in  the  council  that  decided  on  the  murder 
of  Pompey,  and  superintended  the  execution  of  the  deed,  Pompey,  77,  78. 

Septimius  :  a  centujion  in  the  Egyptian  army,  who  had  formerly  served 
under  Pompey,  the  first  of  the  murderers  to  strike  him,  Pompey,  78,  79. 

Salvius  :  a  centurion  in  the  Egyptian  army,  associated  with  Septimius  in 
the  murder  of  Pompey,  Pompey,  78-9. 

Marcilius  :    a  slave  of  Cato.     The  name  is  not  mentioned  by  Plutarch. 

Butas  :  Kern's  emendation  for  Brutus.  Cato  employed  him  as  '  chief  in 
all  public  matters  ',  Cato,  70. 

Drusus  :  a  mute  character  who  only  appears  in  the  stage  direction  before 
V,  i.  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. 

Ophioneus  :  see  note  on  II,  i,  57. 

sr     The  two  consuls  :    the  consuls  for  the  year  49  B.C.  were  L.  Cornelius  Len- 
tulus  and  C.  Claudius  Marcellus. 

Cornelia  :    daughter  of  Metellus  Scipio,  betrothed  to  the  younger  Crassus, 
"  who  was  slain  by  the  Parthians,  and  later  the  wife  of  Pompey. 

Cyris  :  Chapman  seems  to  have  invented  this  strange  name  for  Pompey's 
daughter.  A  daughter  by  his  third  wife,  Mucia,  was  called  Pompeia  ;  the 
infant  daughter  of  his  fourth  wife,  Julia,  died  a  few  days  after  her  mother's 
death  in  childbed. 

Telesilla  and  Laelia  :  mute  figures  who  appear  only  in  V,  i,  apparently  the 
serving-maids  of  Cornelia. 


The  Argument  :  both  the  consuls  slaughtered  with  their  own  hands.  This  is 
an  invention  of  Chapman's.  Lentulus  was  murdered  in  Egypt  shortly  after 
the  death  of  Pompey  ;  nothing  certain  is  known  as  to  the  death  of  Marcellus, 
but  he  seems  to  have  fallen  in  the  war.  See  Cicero,  Philippic,  XIII,  14. 

I,  i.  The  place  is  evidently  Cato's  house  ;  the  time  immediately  before  the 
outbreak  of  the  Civil  War  ;  but  Chapman  borrows  some  details  from  an 
earlier  period.  See  note  on  11.  40-4. 

X,  i,  16.  Cross  .  .  .  aquiline  virtue.  A  cross  is  a  coin  stamped  with  the 
figure  of  a  cross.  Chapman  uses  the  word  aquiline  as  a  laudatory  epithet 

t   .ln™°««trasLwlth  the  Puttocks,  1.  14,  nourished  by  Casar's  bounty. 

It  It  lo-«J3.     Cf.  An  Invective  against  Ben  Jonson: 

their  blood  standing  lakes, 
Green-bellied  serpents  and  black-freckled  snakes 
Crawling  in  their  unwieldy  clotter'd  veins. 

Poems,  p.  432. 

*  S™  >  7his  acc°TunJ  ?f  the  anxiety  of  Cato's  friends  and  family  is  taken 
r-  '-12&    lt  *>elones  Properly  to  a  time  long  before  the  outbreak 
2r  J  i?     7    Wan'  ^hen  Cato  was  P^paring  to  oppose  the  suggestion  of 
.  Metellus  to  recall  Pompey  and  his  army  from  Asiaf 

lf  IT      *£  ,  Pollux  Te™Ple  '  a  temple  on  the  south  side  of  the  Forum, 

the  people  were  to  meet  to  vote  on  the  proposal  of  Metellus. 


NOTES  665 

I,  i,  53.  The  Bench :  Chapman's  translation  of  Plutarch's  /SVJM«,  used  here  / 
for  the  Latin  rostra  from  which  speakers  addressed  the  assembly  in  the  / 
Forum. 

I,  i,  67-70.    This  passage  is  translated,  as  Kern  has  shown,  from  Plutarch,    \ 
De  Superstitione,  3:   Qui  deos  metuit,  omnia  metuit,  terram,  mare,  aerem,    '< 
coelum,  tenebras ,  lucem,   rumorem,  silentium,  somnium.     It  is  interesting 
to  note  that  Chapman  has  inserted  the  phrase  for  guard  of  any  goodness 
to  explain  the  nature  of  the  '  fear  of  the  gods '  which  he  is  speaking  of,  i.e. 
distrust  in  their  protection  of  goodness. 

I,  i,  80-2.  '  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,  i,  85.     Minutius  Thermus,  Cato's  colleague,  roused  him  from  sleep  and      v 
accompanied  him  to  the  ForunVon  the  occasion  of  his  opposition  to  Metellus. 

I,  ii.  This  scene  is  a  compound  of  Plutarch's  account  of  the  session  of  the 
Senate  immediately  before  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War,  Ccesar,  30,  and 
of  the  debate  in  the  Forum  on  the  proposal  of  Metellus,  Cato,  27-9- 
Chapman  borrows  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. 

I,  ii,  1-3.  Caesar  appears  to  have  supported  the  proposal  of  Metellus,  Cato,  I 
27  ;  but,  as  the  time,  62  B.C.,  was  four  years  before  his  command  of  the  f 
army  in  Gaul,  without  the  ulterior  purpose  that  Chapman  here  assigns  him. 

I,  ii,  16-17.  '  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,  18.  With  this  ironic  speech,  cf.  Monsieur's  words  in  The  Revenge  of 
Bussy,  I,  i,  1 80. 

I,  ii,  20.  The  stage  direction  in  this  line  comes  from  Cato,  27,  as  are  the  I 
applauding  voices  in  the  lines  immediately  following. 

I,  ii,  30-1.     Cf.  Bussy,  III,  ii,  25-26. 

I,  ii,  34-49.    The  alleged  reason  for  the  proposal  of  Metellus  was  that  Pompey     \ 
should  protect  the  city  from  Catiline,  Cato,  26  ;    but  the  chief  conspira-     I 
tors  had  already  been  executed,  so  that  the  reference  to  their  imprison 
ment,  11,  38-39,  is  one  of  Chapman's  deliberate  inaccuracies. 

I,  ii,  40.     Cato's  speech  in  favour  of  punishing  the  conspirators  is  mentioned 
by  Plutarch,  Cato,  23.     As  reported  by  Sallust,  Catiline,  52,  it  has  little      / 
likeness  to  the  speech  in  the  text. 

I,  ii,  72.  Beat  one  sole  path:  cf.  Monsieur  D 'Olive,  I,  i,  16:  the  only  ring  our 
powers  should  beat. 

It  ii,  73-130.    Caesar's  speech  in  favour  of  imprisonment  rather  than  death 
for  the  Catilinarian  conspirators  is  mentioned  by  Plutarch,  Cato,  22,  and 
Cessar,    7  ;    but  Chapman  appears  also  to  have  taken  a  hint  from  the    . 
oration  as  reported  by  Sallust.     Compare   11.   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  11.  110-116  from  Casar,  15. 

I,  ii,  117-29.  A  difficult  passage  which  may  be  paraphrased  as  follows  : 
4  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  [i.e.  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  incidental  in  order  that  the  cause 
assigned  by  Metellus  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  good 
reason  for  bringing  back  Pompey's  army  '.  Chapman  has  probably  given 
an  intentionally  obscure  and  casuistical  turn  to  this  speech. 


666  CAESAR  AND  POMPEY 

I,  ii,  135-38.  '  He  loves  his  country,  as  I  strongly  hope,  too  well  to  wish  td 
rule  her  as  a  monarch,  since  the  task  of  government  appears  hard  enough 
when  performed,  as  at  present,  by  so  many,  i.e.  by  the  Senate  and  the 
elected  officials  '. 

I,  ii,  151.  Not  suspected  the  effect :  '  the  effect  is  not  to  be,  should  not  be, 
suspected  '. 

I,  ii,  155-6.  '  Would  put  my  supposed  desire  for  absolute  rule  into  the  power 
of  others  [i.e.  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  '. 

I,  ii,  157.     My  self-love  :  the  object  of  to  quit  [i.e.  '  acquit ']  or  think  of,  1. 160. 

I,  ii,  161-3.  Three  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  lastly  for  his  conquests  in  Asia.  Plutarch, 
Pompey,  45,  says  :  '  It  was  the  chief  thing  toward  his  glory,  and  what 
had  never  before  happened  to  any  Roman,  that  he  celebrated  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'. 

I,  ii,  167-74.  Plutarch,  De  Fortuna  Romanorum,  6,  says  this  was  the  belief 
of  Cassar  himself  :  Adeo  certus  animi  erat  Ccesar,  Fortunam  sibi  naviganti, 
peregrinanti,  belligeranti,  aciem  instruenti  adesse  .**  cujus  essent  partes  mari 
tranquilitatem  imponere,  aestatem  hiemi,  celeritatem  tardissimis,  vires  segnissi- 
mis.  I  owe  this  reference  to  Dr.  Kern. 

I,  ii,  180.     Transferred  with  affectation  :    transported  by  desire. 

I,  ii,  191-96.  Cassar's  proposition  in  these  lines  is  based  upon  the  proposal 
contained  in  the  letter  read  by  Antony  before  the  Senate,  Ccesar,  30.  See 
the  same  paragraph  for  the  vote  in  the  Senate  as  to  Pompey  and  Caesar's 
dismissing  their  armies. 

I,  ii,  193.  To  take,  etc. :  '  in  taking  away  my  office  and  the  army  which 
accompanies  it,  etc.'. 

I,  ii,  202-12.  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.  Caesar's  command  to  bear 
Cato  to  prison  comes  from  another  part  of  Cato's  career,  when  he  was 
opposing  the  agrarian  laws  introduced  by  Caesar  as  consul,  Cato,  33. 

I,  ii,  218-19.  Were  form  .  .  .  place  :  '  were  the  upright  form  of  Cato's  mind 
equipped  with  the  titles  and  offices  it  deserves  ' — so,  at  least,  I  understand 
the  passage. 

I,  ii,  234-5.     Cf.  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  iv,  55. 

Z,  ii,  241-5.  The  allusion  to  Caesar's  temperance,  and  the  disease,  epilepsy, 
which  necessitated  his  frugal  diet,  is  from  Casar,  17.  The  explanation 
of  the  cause  of  this  disease  in  11.  246-56  seems  based  on  a  somewhat  con 
fused  remembrance  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. 

l»  ii,  272-7.    Cf.  A  Justification  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda  : 

/  oft  have  read  of  one 

So  sharp-eyed  he  could  see  through  oak  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-right. 

Poems,  p.  197. 

The  source  of  these  lines  is  Plutarch's  De  Communibus  Notitiis,  44,  5  : 
Lynceus  tile  dicitur  visu  per  saxum  et  quercum  penetrasse  ;    et  quidam  in 


";  NOTES  667 

specula  Siciliae  sedens  conspexit  Carthaginiensium  naves  e  porlu  enavigantes, 
diei  noctisque  cursu  inde  distantes.  The  mention  of  Lynceus  in  this  passage 
gives  Chapman  his  adjective  Lyncean  in  1.  282. 

I,  ii,  284.     Flora's  connexion  with  Pompey  is  mentioned  in  Pompey,  2. 

I*  ii,  285.  Galba  and  Sarmentus  :  parasites  mentioned  by  Juvenal,  Satire  V, 
3-4.  Chapman  translated  this  satire  in  or  before  1629,  when  it  was 
published  along  with  his  Justification  of  a  Strange  Action  of  Nero. 

I,  ii,  288.  Agamemnon  .  .  .  king  of  men :  it  should,  of  course,  be  '  king  of  | 
kings  '.  Ahenobarbus  applied  this  title  to  Pompey  before  the  battle  of  I 
Pharsalia,  Pompey,  67. 

I,  ii,  292.     /  hear  it  thunder :    Pompey  dissolved  the  assembly  which  was    r 
electing  Cato  praetor  under  the  pretence  that  he  heard  thunder,  Goto,  42.  / 
As  often  Chapman  here  borrows  an  incident  from  a  quite  different  con 
nexion  to  heighten  this  scene. 
JL.ii,  297-300.    The  speeches  of  the  consuls  arc  from  Pompey,  58-9.        I 

Hit This  is  the  most  perplexing  scene  of  the  play.  It  is  almost  im 
possible  to  reconcile  with  the  idea  that  Chapman  wrote  this  play  with  no 
view  to  a  stage  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  by  the  audience  in  an  early  period  of 
the  Elizabethan  drama.  Fleay,  Biog.  Chron.,  i,  65,  thinks  that  this 
scene  has  been  retained  from  the  old  play  mentioned  by  Henslowe.  This 
j  would  seem  to  be  supported  by  the  fact  that  a  great  part  of  the 
scene  is  written  in  '  hasty  prose  ',  which,  according  to  the  Dedication, 
Chapman  avoided  in  writing  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  speech  is  certainly  his  ;  the  name, 
Ophioneus,  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  Bussy,  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 
rough — of  some  old  scene-^-his  own  or  another's — of  farcical  conjuration, 
such  as  the  comic  scenes  in  Dr.  Faustus.  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. 

I,  i,  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  we  ' 
have  here  an  allusion  to  this  play.  To  follow  the  usual  practice  and  fix 
the  date  of  this  allusion  shortly  after  the  production  of  the  play  to  which 
it  alludes  would  be  to  throw  C&sar  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  inclined  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. 

II,  i,  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  school  of  the 
Stoa.     His  lost  work,  Pentemychos,  seems  to  have  been  a  theogpny  tracing 
the  development  of  all  things  from  Zeus.     In  the  progress  of  this  evolution 
Zeus  contended  with  and  overcame  certain  evil  forces,  among  whom  was 
a  serpent-god  Ophiuneus,  Chapman's  Ophioneus,  who  was  cast  down  into 
the  under-world.     There  is  a  good  account  of  the  teaching  of  Pherecydes 
in  Gomperz,  Greek  Thinkers,  I,  85,  seq. 

II,  i,  69.     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-   I 
dence  ',  this  name  would  be  a  good  one  for  such  a  rascal. 


668  C&SAR  AND  POMPEY 

n,  i,  75.     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  folly. 

n,  i,  76.     Colts-foot ;    an  infusion  made  of  the  leaves  of  the  plant  of  this  name. 

In  The  Nice  Valour,  III,  ii,  it  is  spoken  of  as  a  beverage  popular  with  young 

men. 

n,  i,  144-5.  According  to  Rabelais,  Hjjjp,  Epistemon  saw  Alexander  in  hell 
'  amending  and  patching'oH  cioirtS  upon  old  breeches  and  stockings,  whereby 
he  got  but  a  very  poor  living  '.  Cyrus  was  a  cowherd  in  hell.  The  idea 
goes  back  to  Lucian's  Menippus ;  but  the  union  of  the  names  Alexander 
and  Cyrus  may  show  that  Chapman  had  read  Rabelais,  who  tells  how 
Alexander  stole  a  crown  that  Cyrus  had  received  as  an  alms  from  Epictetus. 
II,  i,  161.  Roses  :  ribbons  gathered  in  a  knot  in  the  form  of  a  rose  and  worn 

on  the  shoes.     See  Johnson's  note  on  Hamlet,  III,  ii,  288. 
II,  ii.     I  think  this  scene,  in  which  a  Nuntius  after  the  fashion  of  Seneca 
reports  what  has  happened  off  the  stage,  may  have  been  written  as  a  sub 
stitute  for  the  preceding  scene.     Its  proper  place  would  seem  to  be  at  the 
beginning  of  the  act. 

II,  ii,  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. 
II,  ii,  20-33.     This  long  simile  is  from  the  Iliad,  XX,  164-73 : 

As  when  the  harmful  king  of  beasts  (sore  threatened  to  be  slain 
By  all  the  country  up  in  arms)  at  first  makes  coy  disdain 
Prepare  resistance,  but  at  last,  when  any  one  hath  led 
Bold  charge  upon  him  with  his  dart,  he  then  turns  yawning  head ; 
Fell  anger  lathers  in  his  jaws,  his  great  heart  swells,  his  stern 
Lasheth  his  strength  up,  sides  and  thighs,  waddled  with  stripes  to  learn 
Their  own  power ;  his  eyes  glow,  he  roars,  and  in  he  leaps  to  kill, 
Secure  of  killing. 

Chapman's  Iliad,  pp.  241-2. 

See  also  Pharsalia,  I,  205-12,  where  the  simile  is  applied  to  Caasar. 
n,  ii,  34-39.    The  reference  is  to  Pompey's  successful  attack  on  Caesar  at 
Dyrrachium,    Pompey,   65,   a  further  account  of  which  is  given  in  the 
succeeding  scenes. 

f  II,  iii,  10-20.  Caesar's  speech  is  based  upon  the  reflections  ascribed  to  Caesar 
by  Plutarch  during  the  night  after  this  battle,  Ccesar,  39.  The  phrase, 
bearing  before  me,  is  somewhat  obscure,  but  is  explained  by  the  original  : 
'  Considering  that  he  had  before  him  a  goodly  country,  rich  and  plentiful 
of  all  things  '. 

H  iii,  21-72.  This  interview  with  Vibius  is  an  instance  of  the  freedom  with 
which  Chapman  sometimes  handles  his  source.  Plutarch,  Pompey,  65, 
only  states  that  Caesar  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. 

II,  iii,  27.  Quick  in  his  engagement :  alive  and  engaged,  or  entangled,  among 
his  enemies.  With  this  use  of  engagement,  cf.  Bussy,  V,  iv,  o,  where 
engaged  is  the  reading  of  Qj. 

n,  iii,  29-31.  '  Caesar  said  to  his  friends  as  he  was  retiring,  "  To-day  the 
victory  would  be  with  the  enemy,  if  they  had  a  commander  who  knew 
how  to  conquer  "  ',  Ccesar,  39. 

5*  !!!•  JJ5*     Put  on  •'  venture,  like  a  stake  on  the  board. 
n,  ill,  53.     Mine  own  stay's  practice  :    an  obscure  phrase,  which  in  the  light 
the  context  may  be  taken  as  equivalent  to  '  the  exercise  of  my  stead- 
lastness  . 

411,  iii,  86.     Sabinus,  a  general  in  Caesar's  army.    The  name  does  not  occur 
connexion  in  Plutarch's  Lives,  but  in  the  De  Fortuna  Romanorum, 
t>,  he  is  mentioned  as  commanding,  with  Antony,  the  forces  at  Brundusium. 


NOTES  669 

n,  iii,  118-5.  This  is  only  an  inflated  way  of  wishing  for  the  speedy  coming 
of  the  night  in  which  Caesar  may  undertake  his  dangerous  voyage. 

H,  iv,  4-6.  Plutarch,  Ceesar,  39,  gives  the  number  of  standards  taken  by 
Pompey  as  thirty-two  ;  and,  in  Pompey,  65,  the  number  of  slain  as  2,000. 
Elsewhere,  Cessar,  41,  he  speaks  of  Cato's  grief  for  the  slain  :  '  After 
seeing  those  who  had  fallen  in  the  battle  to  the  number  of  a  thousand,  he 
wrapped  up  his  face  and  went  away  with  tears  in  his  eyes  '. 

II,  iv,  7-84.  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,  Ccesar,  41.  The  brief  speech 
of  Statilius  seems  to  be  Chapman's  own  comment  on  the  situation.  The 
speech  of  Pompey  is  drawn  almost  verbally  from  Ccesar,  40. 

n,  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 
Cato,  63.  The  latter  chapter  records  Cato's  belief  that  terms  of  recon 
ciliation  would  be  offered  by  Caesar,  cf.  11.  50-2. 

n,  iv,  62-70.  Cato  did  not  depart  for  Utica  before  the  battle  of  Pharsalia, 
but  was  left  by  Pompey  in  charge  of  the  stores  at  Dyrrachium,  Cato,  66. 
Chapman  has  departed  from  history  to  make  Cato  a  more  independent 
figure.  He  has  also,  as  Kern  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. 

n,  iv,  89-111.  The  interview  between  Brutus  and  Pompey  is  built  up  from 
a  brief  mention  in  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.  . 

n,  iv,  117.    This  is  the  well-known  dictum  of  Protagoras,   f 

II,  iv,  120-7.  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. 

n,  iv,  129-42.  This  elaborate  simile  is  taken  direct  from'  Plutarch's  De  For- 
tuna  Romanorum,  4.  Chapman  has  another  version  of  it  in  Pro  Vere, 
Autumni  Lachryma,  1622  : 

0  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  bear 

Arms  in  his  rescue  and  resemble  her 

Whom  long  time  thou  hast  serv'd  (the  Paphian  Queen) 

When  (all  asham'd  of  her  still-giglet  spleen) 

She  cast  away  her  glasses  and  her  fans 

And  habits  of  th'  effeminate  Persians, 

Her  ceston  and  her  paintings  ;  and  in  grace 

Of  great  Lycurgus  took  to  her  embrace 

Casque,  lance,  and  shield,  and  swum  the  Spartan  flood, 

Eurotas,  to  his  aid. 

Poems,  p.  248. 

With  1.  139  cf.  Byron's  Tragedy,  I,  i,  141-2. 

II,  iv,  146-54.    The  tempest  described  in  these  lines  is  introduced  merely  to 
prepare  the  way  for  the  next  scene ;  hardly,  I  think,  as  an  omen  foretelling 
the  fall  of  Pompey,  as  Kern  seems  to  take  it. 
n,  v.    Chapman  has  added  to  the  dramatic  inteqsity  of  bte  work  by  placing 


67o  GESAR  AND  POMPEY 

l  Casar's  attempt  to  cross  the  sea  to  fetch  the  rest  of  his  army  after  his 
defeat  at  Dyrrachium.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  preceded  this  battle,  and 
is  so  described  by  Plutarch,  Casar,  38.  The  stage  direction,  Ccesar  dis 
guised,  is  from  this  chapter,  as  is  also  the  description  of  the  River  Anius, 
11.  24-33,  and  Cesar's  words  to  the  Master,  11.  44-5.  Chapman  wisely 
omits  the  circumstance  that  Caasar  was  after  all  forced  by  the  storm  to 
return.  On  the  other  hand,  he  puts  into  Caesar's  mouth,  11.  37-8,  a  saying 
of  Pompey's  in  somewhat  similar  circumstances  :  '  It  is  necessary  to  sail ; 
there  is  no  necessity  to  live  ',  Pompey,  50. 

II,  V,  3-4.     Cf .  Hymnus  in  Noctem : 

Then  like  fierce  bolts,  well  ramm'd  with  heat  and  cold 
In  Jove's  artillery. 

Poems,  p.  4, 

and  Bussy,  IV,  ii,  36-7. 

II,  v,  7-11.     These  lines  are  somewhat  obscure,  but  may,  I  think,  be  para 
phrased  thus  :    '  O  Night,  jealous  of  all  the  beauties  and  glories  in  which 
the  gods  have  struck  [i.e.  struck  out,  evoked]  the  four  elements  from  thy 
chaos  [i.e.  the  primeval  chaos  of  Night],  blush  that  you  drown  them  thus 
[i.e.  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. 

HI,  i,  17.     '  That  whatever  decay  has  been  brought  about  by  my  advancing 

years  '. 
m,  i,  36.     Cf.  The  Widow's  Tears,  V,  iii,  45-6  : 

Truth1  pace  is  all  upright,  sound  everywhere, 

And,  like  a  die,  sets  ever  on  a  square, 

and  Chabot,  II,  iii,  112. 

III,  i,  38-9.     These  lines  rhymed  in  Elizabethan  pronunciation. 
in,  i,  56.     So  past  a  man :  this  phrase  modifies  serv'd,  1.  51. 

Ill,  i,  69.     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.  Caesar  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  '. 
ni,  i,  83-4.    These  numbers  are  from  Pompey,  69,  where  Caesar's  troops  are 

given  as  22,000,  and  Pompey's  '  somewhat  more  than  double  '.      In  Ccesar, 

42,  the  infantry  alone  is  reckoned  as  22,000  with    Caesar,  45,000  with 

Pompey. 
in,  i,  93.     Cato  prophesied:    Pompey  is  said  to  have  remarked  this  on  an 

earlier  occasion,  when  Caesar  first  entered  Italy,  Pompey,  60.      Here  the 

reference  is  to  Cato's  words  in  II,  iv,  50-2. 
m,  i,  97-8.     A  sleight  of  some  hid  strategem  :   possibly  we  should  read  a  sleight 

or  some,  etc. ;    but  the  passage  is  intelligible  as  it  stands. 
HI,  i,  116-;7.     Ward,  History  of  English  Dramatic  Literature,  II,  427,  n.,  calls 

these  lines  an  ingenious  misquotation  of  Lucan  : 

Victrix  causa  deis  placuit,  sed  victa  Catoni. 

Pharsaha,  I,  128. 

TO,  i,  119-32.  These  lines  are  from  De  Fortuna  Romanorum,  n,  a  section 
which  Chapman  had  already  plundered.  See  note  on  Byron's  Tragedy, 
V,  ii,  178-271.  The  passage  runs  as  follows  :  Nimirum  magnus  ille  Ro 
manorum  genius,  non  ad  diem  unam  spirans,  aut  exiguo  tempore  vigens,  ut 
Macedpnum ;  neque  in  terra  tantum  potens,  ut  Laconum ;  aut  mari,  ut 
Atheniensum  ;  neque  sero  commotus,  ut  Persarum  ;  neque  subito  sopitus,  ut 
Colophoniorum :  sed  jam  inde  a  principio  cum  urbe  adolescens,  unaque 
crescens  et  augens  rempublicam,  constanter  adfuit  terra  marique,  in  bellis 
et  pace,  adversus  barbaros  et  Gracos. 

HI,  ii,  3-32.  The  Soothsayer's  account  of  his  sacrifice  and  his  inference 
therefrom  is  enlarged  and  altered  from  Casar,  43. 


NOTES  671 

HI,  ii,  22-6.    Cf.  the  parallel  passage  in  The  Tears  of  Peace,  1609 : 
But  as  Earth's  gross  and  elemental  fire 
Cannot  maintain  itself,  but  doth  require 
Fresh  matter  still  to  give  it  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  burns  the  fire  eternal  and  sincere. 

Poems,  p.  123. 

Ill,  ii,  34-5.     '  There  was  seen  in  the  heavens  a  fiery  torch,  which  seemed    j 
to  pass  over  Caesar's  camp,  and  assuming  a  bright  and  flamelike  appear-    j 
ance  to  fall  down  upon  the  camp  of  Pompey  ',  Ceesar,  43  ;  cf.  IV,  i,  12-13. 
This  omen  is  also  mentioned  in  Pompey,  68. 

HI,  ii,  40-7.  '  At  daybreak  as  Caesar  was  going  to  move  to  Scotussa  [a  place 
in  Thessaly  north  of  Pharsalia]  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. 
m,  ii,  49-55.  This  account  of  the  panic,  alluded  to  again  in  IV,  i,  8,  is  from  - 

Ccesar,  43.  i 

III,  ii,  59-65.    This  omen  is  mentioned  in  Casar,  47. 

Ill,  ii,  75-82.  The  dialogue  between  Caesar  and  Crassinius  occurs  hi  Pompey, 
71,  and  Casar,  44,  with  slight  verbal  differences.  I  quote  from  the  latter  : 
'  Caesar  .  .  .  said  :  "  What  hopes  have  we,  Caius  Crassinius,  and  how 
are  our  men  as  to  courage  ?  "  Crassinius  .  .  .  said  :  "  We  shall  have  a 
splendid  victory,  Caesar ;  and  you  shall  praise  me  whether  I  survive  the 
day  or  die  "  '. 

m,  ii,  92-9.     '  Caesar  observing  that  the  expected  day  had  arrived  on  which 
they  would  have  to  fight  against  men,  and  not  against  hunger  and  poverty,    { 
quickly  gave  orders  to  hang  out  in  front  of  his  tent  the  purple  colours 
[rbv  QOI.VI.KOVV  xiTwi/a,  i.e.   the  vexillum],   which  is   the   signal   for   battle 
among  the  Romans  ',  Pompey,  68. 

HI,  ii,  101-7.  Caesar's  plan  of  battle  is  from  'Casar,  44.  The  word  battle 
in  1.  1 06  is  equivalent  to  '  main  division  ',  or  '  centre  ',  as  in  the  original. 

III,  ii,  107.    The  stage  direction  in  this  line  comes  from  Pompey,  68,  imme-    f 
diately  after  the  passage  cited  above. 

HI,  ii,  116-22.  The  allusion  is  to  the  geese  that  saved  the  Capitol  when  the  « 
city  of  Rome  was  held  by  the  Gauls,  Livy,  V,  47. 

IV,  i.     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  Caesar.     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. 

IV,  i,  19-20.  '  Rejecting  the  clear  warning  omens  of  the  gods  with  the 
nauseous  humours  of  a  rude  and  mad  multitude  '. 

IV,  i,  21-3.  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  Caesar's  small  force,  few  when  com 
pared  even  with  half  his  present  army.  According  to  Chapman,  Caesar's 
army  has  been  increased  since  the  first  fight  by  the  force  left  at  Brun- 
dusium. 

IV,  i,  24-8.  These  lines  are  expanded  from  a  remark  of  Plutarch,  G&sar,  \ 
39,  as  to  the  savage  temper  and  endurance  of  the  enemy,  i.e.  Caesar's  i 
troops,  '  as  if  they  were  wild  beasts '. 

IV,  i,  37-9.  From  Pompey,  67.  Domitius  is  L.  Domitius  Ahenobarbus  , 
Spinther,  Lentulus  Spinther,  one  of  the  two  Lentuli  of  the  Dramatis  Per-.  \ 


672 


CESAR  AND  POMPEY 


sona ;  and  Scipio  is  Metellus  Scipio,  father  of  Cornelia,  Pompey's  wife. 
Universal  bishop,  1.  39,  is  Chapman's  rendering  of  Pontifex  Maxi-mus,  an 

I     office  held  by  Caesar  for  many  years. 

IV,  i,  40-4.  '  Pompey  approved  of  the  physician  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,  51-4.  An  obscure  passage.  The  first  clause  is  an  ejaculation,  Shall 
I  bear,  etc.,  and  is  marked  as  such  by  the  question  mark,  equivalent  to  an 
exclamation  mark,  in  the  Q.  I  take  the  phrase,  enlarge  .  .  .  self-fortunes, 
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.  Good,  my  lord :  Kern  holds  that  these  words  are  addressed  to 
Vibius,  but  they  are  more  probably  directed  to  Brutus,  the  natural  leader 

i     of  the  '  young  Patricians  ',  cf.  II,  iv,  92-3.     The  order  of  battle  in  these 

!  lines  is  from  Pompey,  69,  except  that  Brutus  takes  the  place  of  Domitius 
as  leader  of  the  cavalry  on  the  left  wing. 

IV,  ii,  4.     Cf.  note  on  IV,  iii,  7-14. 

.'  IV,  ii,  7-11.  See  note  on  the  Argument,  p.  664.  The  charge  that  Casar  gave 
is  mentioned  in  C&sar,  45,  where  it  is  said  that  he  bade  his  soldiers  thrust 
their  javelins  at  the  eyes  and  faces  of  the  young  patricians. 

IV,  ii,  12.  The  death  of  Crassinius,  as  described  in  the  stage  direction  after 
this  line,  is  from  Cczsar,  44.  On  the  other  hand,  the  hand-to-hand  combat 
of  Caesar  and  Pompey  is  Chapman's  invention,  evidently  with  an  eye  to 
the  entertainment  of  the  audience.  This  is  one  of  the  many  proofs 
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,  ii,  16.     His  broken  eyes  :  cf.  V,  i,  48-9. 

IV,  ii,  15-29.     Caesar's  speech  over  the  body  of  Crassinius  and  his  extempore 
i          epitaph  seem  to  be  Chapman's  invention. 

IV,  iii.  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 

his  Pompey  in 
I  by  Plutarch. 
Plutarch.  In 

Pompey,  66,  he  says  that  after  the  battle  at  Dyrrachium  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,  34.  I  take  it  that  in  this  line  Pompey  first  interrupts  the  reproachful 
speech  of  Demetrius,  and  then,  recovering  his  fortitude,  bids  him  continue. 

IV,  iii,  35-54.  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  Pharsalia,  in 
which  Pompey  '  expressed  some  doubts  about  Providence ',  Pompey,  75. 

IV,  iv.  This  short  scene  is  mainly  built  up  from  Casar,  46  :  '  When  Caesar 
saw  the  bodies  of  the  slain  and  the  slaughter  still  going  on,  he  said  with 
a  groan  :  "  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  fell.  .  .  .  Caesar  pardoned  many  men  of  dis 
tinction,  among  whom  was  Brutus.  .  .  .  Caesar  is  said  to  have  been 
very  much  troubled  at  his  not  being  found,  but  when  Brutus,  who 
had  escaped  unhurt,  presented  himself  to  Caesar,  he  was  greatly 
pleased '. 

IV,  nr,  9.    The  obscure  phrase,  that  left  their  bloods  to  ruth,  means,  I  suppose, 
whose  spilled  blood  moves  you  to  pity '. 

IV,  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 
Jives,  inasmuch  as  they  sacrificed  them  needlessly', 


NOTES  673 

IV,  iv,  45.  Your  father,  Cato  :  i.e.  father-in-law,  as  in  IV,  i,  63.  Brutus  had 
married  Portia,  Gate's  daughter. 

IV,  v.  With  this  scene  the  centre  of  interest  shifts  from  Ppmpey  to  Cato, 
who  has  been  absent  from  the  stage  since  II,  iv.  Organically  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. 

IV,  V,  15.  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,  20-85.  These  lines  are  a  mere  versification  of  the  answer  of  Cato  to 
the  Utican  senate,  who  wished  to  supplicate  Caesar  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  Caesar  in  things  honourable  and  just, 
and  that  Caesar  was  the  party  who  was  captured  and  conquered,  for  what 
he  used  to  deny  that  he  was  doing  against  his  country  long  ago  he  was 
now  convicted  of  and  detected  therein ',  Cato,  64. 

IV,  v,  89-42.  An  obscure  passage,  but  it  may  be  paraphrased  thus  :  His 
[Caesar's]  parts,  which  are  so  much  admired,  are  outward  shows,  tongue, 
show,  falsehood,  which  lead  to  bloody  death  ;  they  are  vainglory,  villainy, 
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  Caasar,  scraps 
from  the  manhood  that  once  was  his  '. 

IV,  V,  45.  The  long  philosophical  argument  which  begins  with  this  line  and 
goes  on  till  the  close  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  round  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~p~utting  into  Cato's  mouth  a  genuine  stoical  defence 
of  suicide,  11.  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  11.  90-136  embody 
Chapman's  interpretation  and  defence  of  the  dogma  of  the  resurrection. 

IV,  v,  67-72.  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,  v,  105.     Full  creature:  cf.  Bussy,  V,  ii,  41,  the  reading  of  Qj.     Seep.  568. 

IV,  v,  118-4.  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,  127.  Him  that  sings  :  Homer.  The  two  following  lines  are  a  condensa 
tion  of  a  passage  in  the  Iliad,  VIII,  18-26  : 

Let  down  our  golden  chain 

And  at  it  let  all  deities  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  draw  you  all  to  me, 
Even  with  the  earth  itself  and  seas  ye  shall  enforced  be. 

Chapman's  Iliad. 
C.D.W,  X 


6;  4  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY 

Lines  130-6  are  a  curious  specimen  of  the  allegorizing  treatment  of 
Homer  popular  among  scholars  of  the  Renaissance,  as  it  was  among  later 
Greek  commentators.  Chapman  gives  another  interpretation  of  this 
passage  in  The  Shadow  of  Night,  Poems,  p.  6.  There  is  a  naive  pride  in 
the  way  Chapman  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Athenodorus,  11.  137-9*  an  en 
comium  on  Chapman's  own  excellence  as  an  allegorizing  commentator. 
IV  v  142.  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 
talking  on  other  subjects.     Cf.  Cato,  67. 

V,  i.  This  scene  is  laid  in  the  island  of  Lesbos,  where  Cornelia  and  Sextus 
Pompey  had  been  staying  during  the  campaign  of  Pharsalia.  Chapman 
gives  her  as  attendants,  in  addition  to  her  maids  and  the  slave,  Drusus, 
the  two  Lentuli,  who,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  only  came  to  Lesbos  along  with 
Pompey  after  Pharsalia,  Pompey,  73.  But  this  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  reunion 
with  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  breaking  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. 

V,  i,  7-8.     That  highest  heaven,  etc. :  the  '  primum  mobile  '. 

V,  i,  14.  These  letters  :  '  the  pleasing  intelligence  that  she  [Cornelia]  had 
received  both  by  report  and  by  letter  had  led  her  to  hope  that  the  war 
was  terminated  near  Dyrrachium,  and  that  all  that  remained  was  for 
Pompey  to  pursue  Caesar  ',  Pompey,  74. 

Vi  i,  20-4.  This  passage  is  very  obscure,  and  as  it  is  punctuated  in  the  Q. 
and  in  S.  is  quite  unintelligible.  I  give  first  the  Q.  reading  : 

Why  write  great  learned  men  ?  men  merely  rapt 
With  sacred  rage,  of  confidence,  beleefe  ? 
Undaunted  spirits  ?  inexorable  fate 
And  all  feare  treading  on  ?  'tis  all  but  ay  re, 
If  any  comfort  be,  'tis  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.  15-9,  '  Why  ',  she  exclaims,  '  do  learned  men 
[i.e.  the  sceptical  philosophers],  rapt  with  sacred  rage  [i.e.  carried  away 
by  enthusiastic  conviction  of  their  own  teachings],  write  concerning  con 
fidence,  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  hi 
despair  [i.e.  in  absolute  negation  of  Providence]  '.  I  have  repunctuated 
to  bring  out  this  meaning.  My  friend,  Dr.  Kennedy,  suggests  another 
interpretation  :  '  Why  do  learned  men,  rapt  with  sacred  rage,  undaunted 
spirits,  treading  on  fate  and  fear,  write  concerning  confidence  and  belief. 
These  are  vain  as  air  ;  in  despair  alone  is  man's  true  comfort '.  This  is 
a  possible  interpretation,  but  it  does  not  seem  to  me  to  suit  the  context, 
nor  can  I  believe  that  Cornelia  in  her  present  mood  of  joyful  hope  would 
.  *ay  that  man's  only  comfort  is  in  despair. 

V,  i,  37-42.  Cf.  IV,  i,  34-9.  The  Phaonius  of  1.  41  is  Favonius,  '  Cato's 
ape  ',  who  appears  repeatedly  in  Plutarch's  Pompey,  60,  67,  73,  although 
there  is  no  mention  of  his  having  been  a  candidate  for  office.  The  spelling, 
Phaonius,  is  found  in  North's  Plutarch. 

V,  i,  80-162.  This  whole  passage  telling  of  the  meeting  of  the  disguised  Pom 
pey  and  his  attendant  with  Cornelia,  their  dialogue,  and  Cornelia's  cheerful 
reception  of  her  husband,  is  as  different  as  possible  from  the  account  ill 


! 


NOTES  675 

Plutarch,  Pompey,  74,  75.     Here,  again,  Chapman  departs  from  his  source 
to  exalt  the  Stoic  fortitude  of  his  characters. 

V,  i,  179.  '  That  a  rest,  or  balance,  might  remain  due  from  God  to  them  ',  a 
striking  anticipation  of  the  last  lines  of  Browning's  The  Patriot : 

1  Paid  by  the  world,  what  dost  thou  owe 
Me  '  ?     God  might  question  ;  now  instead, 
'Tis  God  shall  repay  :  I  am  safer  so. 

V,  i,  192-3.    Cf.  II,  i,  153-4- 

V,  i,  211-8.  A  difficult  passage.  I  take  that,  1.  211,  as  the  subject  of  rarefies, 
1.  213,  and  for  earthy  greatness  as  equivalent  to  '  for  the  sake  of  mundane 
greatness  '. 

V,  i,  217-21.  Kern  points  out  that  this  story  of  Empedocles  is  found  in  Plu 
tarch's  De  curiosotate,  i,  Empedocles  vero  physicus  quodam  montis  hiatu, 
uncle  gravis  et  insalubris  in  planitiem  exhalabat  auster,  obturato,  creditus  est 
pestem  ea  regione  exclussisse.  The  same  story  reappears  in  Adversus 
Coloten,  32. 

V,  i,  248.  The  characters  introduced  in  the  stage  direction  after  this  line  are 
the  murderers  of  Pompey  as  named  by  Plutarch,  Pompey,  78. 

V,  i,  244.  .fffcypt :  i.e.  Ptolemy,  the  King  of  Egypt.  His  father,  Ptolemy 
Auletes,  had  been  restored  to  his  throne  by  Gabinius,  Pompey's  friend,  a 
few  years  previously.  Cf.  1.  245. 

V,  i,  258.    The  stage  direction  after  this  line  is  from  Pompey,  79. 

V,  i,  259.  '  See,  heavens,  what  you  suffer  to  be  done  '.  So,  at  least,  I  under 
stand  the  passage. 

V,  i,  284.  After  the  murder  of  Pompey  his  head  was  cut  off  to  be  shown  to 
Caesar,  and  his  trunk  left  lying  on  the  shore,  Pompey,  80. 

V,  ii.  The  last  scene  of  the  drama  connects  logically  with  the  last  scene  of 
the  preceding  act.  Now  that  the  wars  of  Caesar  and  Pompey  are  over 
and  Pompey  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  Atheno- 
dorus,  11.  70-86,  is  Chapman's  own.  The  whole  purpose  of  the  scene  is  a 
defence,  in  dramatic  form,  of  the  thesis  which  Chapman  put  on  the  title- 
Only  a  just  man  is  a  free  man,  and  this  purpose,  it  seems 
"  •  accomplishes.  Had  the  whole  play  been 
have  been  worthier  at  once  of  Chapman's 
genius  and  of  his  noble  subject. 

V,  ii,  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. 

V,  ii,  10.     Their  subjection :    the  forced  submission  of  the  outlaws  of  1.  9. 

V,  ii,  15.     With  this  use  of  idol,  i.e.  ei«oAov,  '  image  ',  cf.  Bussy.  IV,   i,    16. 

V,  ii,  17-8.  To  dispose  .  .  .  rogues  :  '  that  we  may  order  all  our  affairs 
according  to  the  pleasure  and  after  the  fashion  of  errant  rogues  '. 

V,  ii,  22-5.  Cato's  noticing  the  absence  of  his  sword  and  his  inquiry  as  to 
who  had  removed  it  come  from  Plutarch,  Cato,  68. 

V,  ii,  34.     Keeps  the  store :  possesses  all  abundance. 

V,  ii,  51-5.  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  mouth  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,  I'll  break  your  lips 
ope,  seems  to  be  Chapman's  intentional  substitute  for  the  blow  recorded 
by  Plutarch. 

V,  ii,'  79.    That  ambitton ;  i.e.  to  reform  the  world. 


trcieiice,  111  uruiiiuiic  xuriu,  01  i 
page  of  this  play  :  Only  a  just  m 
to  me,  the  poet  triumphantly 
written  hi  this  vein,  it  would  '. 


676  CAESAR  AND   POMPEY 

V,  ii,  82.  Pressed  to  a  living  death.  Cf.  the  line  in  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  iv,  38, 
repeated  in  The  Tears  of  Peace : 

A  slave  bound  face  to  face  to  Death  till  death. 

Poems,  p.  124. 

V,  ii,  91-100.  Cato's  inquiry  for  Statilius  is  recorded  by  Plutarch  at  a  some 
what  earlier  period  than  here,  Cato,  66.  The  answer  given  in  Plutarch, 
namely,  that  Statilius  had  declined  to  abandon  Cato,  is  quite  different 
from  that  in  the  text,  which  is  apparently  given  to  provide  a  striking 
entrance  for  this  character,  a  little  later  on,  stage  direction  after  1.  162. 
The  three  hundred  Romans,  1.  92,  are  the  three  hundred  Roman  merchants 
and  moneylenders  whom  Cato  had  constituted  as  a  senate  in  Utica,  Cato, 
59,  repeatedly  mentioned  by  Plutarch.  Lucius  Caesar  was  a  kinsman  of 
Julius,  and  was,  no  doubt  for  this  reason,  sent  from  Utica  to  obtain  terms 
for  the  city  after  Caesar's  victory  at  Thapsus.  See  Cato,  66. 
\  V,  ii,  106-17.  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  '. 

V,  ii,  130.     That  may  fit  my  freedom.     See  Text  Notes,  p.  68 1. 

V,  ii,  137-50.     This  speech  on  recognition  in  the  next  world  and  the  immor 
tality  of  the  individual  soul,  no  doubt,  expresses  Chapman's  own  opinions. 
j    V,  ii,  151-6.     '  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  the 
edge  preserved,  he  said,  "  Now  I  am  my  own  master  "  ',  Cato,  70. 

V,  ii,  161.  The  stage  direction  after  this  line  and  the  ensuing  dialogue  as 
far  as  1.  172  represent  a  slight  alteration  of  the  source  on  Chapman's  part 
for  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  overturning 
a  little  abacus  that  stood  by,  which  his  attendants  perceiving,  called  out 
and  his  son  and  his  friends  immediately  ran  in  '. 

V,  ii,  172-7.  This  is  taken  direct  from  Cato,  70,  except  1.  77,  which  is  Chap 
man's  paraphrase  of  the  Stoic  paradox,  debated  at  supper  on  the  night 
before  Cato's  death,  that  the  good  man  alone  is  free,  and  that  all  the  bad 
are  slaves. 

Y,  ii,  179-85.  Caasar's  entry  and  speech  are  founded  on  Cato,  72  :  '  As  Caesar 
made  most  account  of  Cato,  he  advanced  his  force  by  quick  marches. 
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  "  '. .  Cf. 
also  11.  213-4. 

V,  ii,  187.  Plutarch,  Brutus,  40,  relates  that  just  before  the  battle  of  Philippi 
Brutus  told  Cassius  that  he  had  formerly  blamed  Cato  for  killing  himself, 
as  thinking  it  an  irreligious  act,  but  that  now  he  was  of  another  mind. 

V,  ii,  189-212.  In  order  to  round  off  his  play,  Chapman  brings  the  murderers 
of  Pompey  into  Caasar's  presence  at  Utica.  According  to  Plutarch,  Pom- 

!pey,  So,  Caesar  turned  away  from  the  man  who  brought  him  the  head  of 
Pompey  as  from  a  murderer.  He  put  to  death  Pothinus,  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  conspiracy  against  Caesar, 
while  the  latter  was  in  Alexandria.  Achillas,  the  chief  of  the  murderers, 
was  murdered  in  the  course  of  the  Alexandrian  war.  Cf.  Casar,  49,  and 
Pompey,  So.  Chapman's  statement  that  Caesar  ordered  the  murderers  to 
be  tortured  to  death  is  an  invention  of  his  own  to  satisfy  the  Elizabethan 
demand  for  poetical  justice. 

V,  ii,  211.  *  Let  the  treatment  of  my  slaves  serve  as  a  precedent '.  From 
this  it  would  appear  that  certain  slaves  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  Brutus's  slaves  in 
Plutarch. 

«    V,  ii,  218-24.     Caesar's  charge  to  the  Uticans  comes  from  Plutarch,  Cato,  n  . 
but  according  to  the  biographer  the  citizens  did  not  need  any  such  order' 


N6TES 

Before  Caesar  entered  the  city  they  gave  Cato  a  splendid  funeral,  and 
interred  him  near  the  sea, '  where  a  statue  of  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 
1907  for  the  British  Museum,  has  the  title-page  :  The  Warres  of  Pompey  and 
Ceesar.  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  be  sold 
by  Godfrey  Emondson  and  Thomas  Alchorne,  MDCXXXI.  The  second  has 
the  title-page  :  Ceesar  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  the  two  forms  already  noted  as 
far  as  the  word  freeman,  after  which  it  reads  :  As  it  was  Acted  at  the  Black- 
Fryers.  Written  by  George  Chapman.  London,  Printed  in  the  Year*  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, 
but  simply  presents  the  old  sheets  bound  up  with  a  new  title-page. 

Ceesar  and  Pompey  was  next  reprinted  in  The  Comedies  and  Tragedies  of 
George  Chapman,  vol.  iii.  Pearson,  1873.  This  is  professedly  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.,  differing  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  indication  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,  15.     Q.  For  fall  of  his  ill-disposed  I,  ii.     In  the  stage  direction  before 

Purse.     A     syllable     has     evi-  this    scene   I   have  substituted, 

dently  dropped  out  of  the  line.  as    throughout     the    play,    the 

Brereton  [Joe.  cit.]   proposes  to  modern  form  Antony  for  the  Q. 

read  [so]  ill-disposed  ;    I  suggest  Anthonius. 

fallings,  i.e.  '  droppings  '.  I,  ii,  1  and  4.     I  have  marked  the 

39.     I   insert   the  stage  direction  speeches   beginning   with    these 

[To  Athenodorus].  lines  as  asides.     The  whole  dia- 

41-2.     In    Q.  the  parenthesis  in-  logue  as  far  as  1.  15  is,  of  course, 

eludes   the   words   from   for   to  an    aside    between    Caesar    and 

danger,   1.   44.     But  it  is  plain  Metellus. 

that   the  phrase,   his  wife  ...  18.     Q.  Hold,  keep  out.     Q.  assigns 

mourn,  depends  on  knew,  1.  40,  this  speech  to  i,   which  S.  ex- 

and  belongs  outside  the  paren-  pands  to  ist  Co.,  as  if  ist  Consul, 

thesis.  cf.  1.   197.     This  is,  of  course, 

82.     Possibly  we  should  read  more  wrong,  as  the  Consuls  are  friends 

that  for  the  Q.  more  then  ;    but  of  Cato,  and  the  speaker  is  evi- 

see  the  preceding  note  on  this  .      dently    trying    to    prevent    his 

passage,  p.  665.  entrance,  cf.    I,    i,    51-5-    The 


678 


CESAR  AND  POMPEY 


speeches  in  this  passage  assigned 
in  Q.  to  i,  2,  3,  4,  5,  and  6  [11. 
18,  19,  20,  23,  25,  and  27]  are 
by  various  characters  not  pre 
cisely  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  ist,  2nd,  etc.,  Co. 
I  think  it  simpler  to  designate 
them  as  citizens,  a  term  which 
includes  at  once  the  ruffians 
and  Gate's  friends  among  the 
people  and  Senate. 

30.  I  have  inserted  the  stage- 
direction  rising. 

110-1.  Q.  includes  the  words  / 
slew  to  soldiers  within  the  paren 
thesis,  putting  a  semicolon  after 
them. 

193.  Q.  To  take.  Perhaps  we 
should  read  You  take,  and  put  a 
period  after  his  ;  but  see  pre 
ceding  note  on  this  passage, 
p.  666. 

201.  Perhaps  we  should  read 
armies  for  Q.  armes  ;  but  if  arms 
be  pronounced  as  a  dissyllable, 
the  metre  will  be  correct. 

209.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction,  he  snatches  the  bill, 
from  the  source,  Plutarch,  Cato, 
28. 

213.  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  Sen.,  i.e.  Senators. 
The  words  are  then  addressed 
to  Caesar,  who  has  drawn  his 
sword  on  Cato.  The  stage  direc 
tion  in  11.  212-3,  He  draws  and 
all  draw,  comes  in  Q.  after  the 
two  lines  into  which  1.  213  is 
there  divided ;  S.  shifts  it  to 
come  after  Pompey's  words, 
thus  making  him  the  first  to 
draw.  But  it  is  plain  from  the 
context  that  Caesar  kdraws  first, 
and  his  '  mercenary  ruffians ' 
follow  his  example. 

266.  Q.  subject'st.  S.  alters  to 
subject-,  but  the  double  super 
lative  should  be  retained. 

258.  Q.  ingeniously.  See  note  on 
Bussy,  III,  ii,  107,  p.  565. 


283.  Q.  beleeu'd.  I  take  this  to 
mean  believ'd,  i.e.  trusted  in ; 
but  there  may  be  some  corrup 
tion  in  the  text. 

291.  Q.  My  Lords  ;  S.  needlessly 
alter  to  My  lord.  Cato  is  ad 
dressing  both  Caesar  and  Pompey. 

297.     I    have   inserted   the   stage 

direction  to  Casar. 
II,  i,  19.     Q.  thinke  I  am  knave.     S. 
inserts  the  a  which  has  dropped 
out  before  knave. 

257-82.  Q.  prints  this  passage  as 
if  it  were  verse,  but  it  is  plainly 
prose. 

33.     Q.  A  villaine ;    P.  misprints 

0  villaine. 

50.  Q.  command  the  elements. 
This  is  plainly  wrong.  We  may 
read  either  /  command,  or  com 
manding.  I  prefer  the  latter. 

74.  I  have  supplied  the  stage 
direction  aside. 

77-8.  Q.  as  if  there  were  ;  S.  need 
lessly  alters  were  to  was. 

81-95.  This  speech  is  assigned  by 
Q.  to  Fro.  P.  misprints  Gro. 

83.     Q.  has  a  dash  [ — ]  in  this  line. 

1  take  it  that  a  cut  has  been 
made  here,  which  has  left  the 
line  imperfect. 

96-8.  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  close  of  the  scene. 

154-5.  Q.  Though  thou ;  P.  mis 
prints  Thou  thou. 

n,  ii,  11.  Q.  bloody  frights.  Perhaps 
we  should  read  sights,  fights,  or 
rites  for  frights ;  but  I  have 
preferred  to  let  the  text  stand. 

43.     After  this  line  I  have  inserted 
Exit    Nuntius,    and    marked    a 
new  scene. 
II,  iii,  1-2.     Q.  Crass.  Stay  cowherd, 

fly  ye  Casar's  fortunes  ? 
Cffls.    Forbeare,    foolish     Crassi- 

nius,  we  contend  in  vaine. 
Context   and   metre   show   that 
we    should    read    cowards    and 
transpose  foolish  from  1.  2  to  1.  i. 

39.  Q.  Counsailes.  S.  prints 
counsels  ;  but  I  think  the  sense 
demands  councilst  i.e.  of  war. 
So  also  in  1.  42. 


NOTES 


679 


88.  Q.  'Tis  offerd,  Sir,  'bove  the 
rate.  S.  emends  above. 

78.  This  prepares.  Q.  prints  as 
the  first  words  of  the  next  line. 

105.  Q.  what  suspection.  For  this 
very  doubtful  word  I  suggest 
suspect,  a  noun  used  elsewhere 
by  Chapman  (Gentleman  Usher, 
IV,  iv,  103),  which  also  restores 
the  metre. 

110-2.    The  passage  as  punctuated 
in   Q.   is  very  confusing  : 
Their  stay  is  worth  their  ruine, 

should  we  live, 
If  they  in  fault  were  ?  if  their 

leader  I  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. 

113.     After    all    Q.    has    only    a 

comma. 

n,  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. 

79.     I  have  inserted  to  A  thenodor us 

to  make  it  plain  whom  Pompey 

is  addressing. 
86.     In    the    stage    direction    Q. 

misprints  Sat.  for  Sta. 
104.     Q.   ingenious.    Cf.   note   on 

I,  ii,  258,  above. 

II,  v,   36.     Q.   were  all,   yet  more  ? 

As  in  II,  iii,  in,  the  question 
mark  merely  denotes  emphasis. 
So  in  1.  40  Q.  has  master? 
44.  Q.  fraight.  S.  prints  straight, 
but  I  think  it  is  a  mere  variant 
for  freight. 

III,  i,  16.     Q.  as  the  time  encrease. 
Read  increased.     Chapman  pro 
bably  wrote  encreast,  from  which 
the  misprint  of  the  Q.  would  be 
easy. 

69.  Q.    we   both   concluded.     Per 
haps  we  should  read  were  both  ; 
but  see  note  above,  p.  670. 

90-1.  Come  .  .  .  much.  Q.  and 
P.  print  these  words  as  one  line. 
P.  and  S.  omit  much,  following 
some  copies  of  Q.  (1Malone,  241, 
and^Brit.  Mus.,  C.  12,  g.  5]- 
.v^BuUthe  word  appears  in  all 
other  copies  that  I  have  seen, 

1  One  of  the  copies  at."  the  Bodleian. 


and  is  evidently  required  by  th« 
context. 
92.     P.  misprints  Tom.  for   Pom 

[pey]. 

96.  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  words. 
98.  Q.  Of  some  hid.  Perhaps 
we  should  read  Or  some.  In 
some  copies  of  Q.  the  /  is  faint ; 
in  1Malone,  164,  it  is  wanting. 
138.  Q.  crown'd.  So  P.  and  S.  ; 
but  the  context  seems  to  require 
crown  to  correspond  with  drown 
in  1.  136. 

HI,  ii,  76.  Q.  in  an  spirit.  P.  and 
S.  print  any,  which  is,  no  doubt, 
right. 

90.     Q.  assigns  this  line  to  A  nth. 
P.  misprints  Cnth,  and  S.  alters 
to  Cr[assinius]. 
101.     I    have   inserted   the   stage 

direction  To  Antony. 
109.     Q.    A    blest    even.    P.    mis 
prints  0  blest. 

117.     Q.    fowles.      P.      misprints 
fowles,    and  S.   alters  to  souls ; 
but  see  note  above,  p.  671. 
127.     Q.    blest    means.     S.    need 
lessly  alters  to  best. 
IV,    i,    20.     Q.    ruder;     S.    emends, 

metris  causa,  to  rude. 
43.  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. 

53.     After  self-fortunes   Q.   has   a 
question  mark,   but  this  seems 
plainly  an  error,  perhaps  caught 
from   the   question  mark   after 
own,  1.  52,  which  I  have  altered 
to  an  exclamation  mark. 
IV,  ii,  4.     Q.  puts  a  question  mark 
after    show'd,    but    this    makes 
nonsense  of  the  sentence. 
27.     Q.     soule    of     funeral;     the 
emendation    scroll,  i.e.  'inscrip 
tion,'  I  think  makes  sense  of  an 
otherwise  unintelligible  passage. 
IV,  iii,  29.     Q.  puts  a  question  mark 
after    ruin'd ;     but    it    plainly 
belongs  after  detraction,  1.  31. 
34.     Q.  puts  a  question  mark  after 
you,  but  I  think  a  dash  is  better, 
as  Pompey  interrupts  this  speech. 
67-9.     Q.    puts    question    marks 
after  own,  1.  67,  me,  1.  68,  and 
acceptance,  1.  69.     Only  the  last 
is  needed. 


68o 


GESAR  AND  POMPEY 


84.  Q.  accepted,  S.  emends  ex- 
cepted,  which  is  plainly  right. 

90.     Something    seems    to    have 

dropped  out  of  this  line. 
IV,  iv,  9.     The  copy  in  the  Advocates' 
Library,  Edinburgh,  has  Wood; 
all  others  bloods,  which  I  have 
therefore  retained. 

14.  Q.  Of  all  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,  123.    Q.  Holds  their  proportion. 

P.  misprints  Holds  this. 

V,  i.     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,  Septius.  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. 

13.  Q.  making,  an  evident  mis 
print  for  waking,  which  P. 
prints. 

42.  In  this  line  Q.  has  the  stage 
direction  Septimius  [read  Sextus] 
with  a  letter.  This  does  not 
indicate  an  entrance,  but  only 
that  Sextus  comes  forward  and 
joins  in  the  dialogue. 

51.  Q.  Lost  in ;  so  S.  But  I 
think  we  should  read  Left,  i.e. 
4  left  off,  broke  off  '. 

57.  After  this  line  I  have  in 
serted  the  stage  direction  Enter 
a  Sentinel.  S.  does  not  note 
this  entry,  and  assigns  the 
speeches  in  11.  60,  63-4,  etc.,  to 
Se.t  the  same  abbreviation  that 
he  uses  for  Sextus,  thus  making 
a  confusion  which  does  not  exist 
in  the  Q.,  which  assigns  them 
to  Sen. 

75.  Q.  yet.  So  S.  ;  but  I  feel 
sure  yet  is  a  misprint  for  that, 
probably  written  yt. 
.  79.  In  the  stage  direction  after 
this  line  I  have  inserted  the  word 
disguised. 

80-2.  Q.  prints  as  verse,  the  lines 
ending  the,  camming,  and  letters. 

84-6.     Q.  prints  as  verse,  the  lines 


ending    seemes,    by    their,    and 
husband. 

94.  Augurs,  madam  .  .  .  alias. 
P.  prints  these  words  in  italics. 
They  are  roman  in  Q. 

120-1.  P.  wrongly  assigns  this 
speech  to  Cor[nelia].  Inl.  120  S. 
reads  possess  for  Q.  profess,  an 
error  which  has  crept  into  this 
text. 

159.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction,  Revealing  himself. 

161-5.  These  lines  of  regular 
verse  are  printed  as  prose  by  S. 

172.  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  semicolon  after 
farre.  I  think  the  sense  de 
mands  a  transposition  of  these 
points. 

211-4.  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. 

244.  Instead  of  Achillas]  as  in 
Q.,  P.  prints  Arch,  as  the  name 
of  the  speaker. 

256.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction,  Exeunt,  etc.,  after  this 
line. 

259.  Q.  prints  See  heavens  your 
sufferings.  This  is  intelligible, 
but  I  think  the  context  shows 
that  Pompey  is  appealing  to  the 
heavens,  and  I  have  punctuated 
accordingly. 

265.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction,  Exeunt  Murderers  with 
Pompey,  after  this  line. 
V,  ii,  46.  Following  Dr.  Kern's  sug 
gestion,  I  have  altered  the  name 
in  the  stage  direction  after  this 
line  from  Q.  Brutus  to  Butas. 
See  Cato,  70 ;  so  also  in  11.  59, 
162,  173,  178. 

120-1.  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. 

127.  Q.  assigns  this  speech  to 
Por[tius].  P.  misprints  Cor., 
and  S.  abbreviates  Co.  I  have 
inserted  the  stage  direction  in 
this  line. 


NOTES 


681 


130.  Q.  that  may  fit.  Perhaps 
we  should  read  that  may  let,  i.e. 
hinder. 

151.  Q.  Lay  downe.  S.  emends 
Lay'*  [i.e.  the  sword]  down.  I 
doubt  if  this  is  necessary. 

158.  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   basted.     P.    blasted, 

which  is,  no  doubt,  correct. 

188.  In  the  stage  direction  after 
this   line    Q.    has    Achilius.     S. 
reads     Acilius,     confusing     the 
soldier  of  Casar  with  the   mur 
derer  of  Pompey,  Achillas. 

189.  I  have  inserted  three  after 
All  to  show  that  it  is  the  three 
murderers  who  kneel. 


195-6.    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 
put  by  a  proof  reader  who  took 
it  for  an  anticipation  of  the 
with  before  instant. 

201.  Q.    gives    the    words    cruel 
Cessar     to     Omn[es],      I     read 
Omnes  3,  as  in  1.  196. 

202.  It  is  just  possible  that  the 
phrase  Hale  them  out  which  is 
printed  as  a  stage-direction  may 
have  been  meant  as  a  speech. 
It  occurs  in  Q.  in  the  middle  of 
the  line,  but  in  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. 
London,  Printed  for  Humphrey  Moseley,1  and  are  to  sold  at  his  Shopp 
at  the  Princes- Arms  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard  1654.  It  is  prob. 
ably  to  be  identified  with  a  play,  Alfonso,  performed  at  Blackfriars 
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.2  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  supported  by  anything  in  the  list  he  prints,  but  simply 
expresses  his  own  identification  of  the  play  with  that  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.  Langbaine  8  assigns  it  to  Chapman  ; 
Winstanley  *  to  Peele  ;  Anthony  a  Wood,6  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,6  '  I  am  not  ignorant 

1  For  Moseley's  activity  as  a  publisher,  see  Masson,  Life  of  Milton,  vol.  vi 
400-402.  His  enthusiasm  for  the  drama  seems  to  have  outrun  his  discrimina 
tion,  for  he  attributed  the  anonymous  Merry  Devil  of  Edmonton  to  Shake 
speare  (entry  in  S.R.,  September  9,  1653),  Massinger's  Parliament  of  Love  to 
William  Rowley  (entry  in  S.R.,  June  29,  1660),  and  The  Faithful  Friends  to 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  an  ascription  rejected  by  all  critics  but  Oliphant. 
Further,  he  ascribes  to  Shakespeare  in  collaboration  with  Davenport  a  play, 
Henry  I  and  Henry  II  (entry  of  1653),  doubtless  the  same  as  the  Henry  I 
licensed  eight  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  ready  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 
Alphonsus  to  Chapman. 

*  Printed  in  his  Extracts  from  Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  Court,  Shakespeare 
Society,  vol.  vii,  p.  xxiy. 

3  Account  of  the  English  Dramatic  Poets,  pp.  59  and  401. 

4  Lives  of  the  Most  Famous  English  Poets,  p.  97. 

5  Athenae  Oxonienses,  under  the  lives  of  Peele  and  Chapman  respectively. 

6  Op.  cit.t  p.  401. 


684        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

that  .  .  .  Alphonsus  is  ascribed  to  him  [Peele]  in  former  catalogues, 
[i.e.  bookseller's  lists  of  plays  printed  or  in  MS.]  which  has  occasion'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  clear,  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  relative 
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 1  could  speak  of  him  as  '  a  somewhat  antiquated 
English  Bard  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  date,  some  remains  of  whose  pretty 
pastoral  poetry  we  have  extant  in  a  collection  called  England's  Heli 
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  Shakespeare,  the  desire  to  set  off  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  such 
an  indefatigable  student  of  the  Elizabethan  drama  as  2  Lamb.  It 
was  Elze's  edition,  Leipzig,  1867,  with  its  elaborate  introduc 
tion  that  first  brought  A  Iphonsus  before  the  modern  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  believes  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.  A  Iphonsus  is  not  written  throughout  in  Chap 
man's  manner,  nor  are  there  any  detached  scenes  or  isolated  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  3  has  been  assigned  to  him.  In  Alphonsus  I  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, 

1  Theatrum  Poetarum,  1675,  P-  xvii. 

2  The  anonymous  author  of  an  article  in  the  Retrospective  Review  in  1821 
(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 
seems  to  have  done  before  him,  that  it  was  '  entirely  divested  of  the  descrip 
tive  and  didactic  poetry  which  so  often  graces  the  [other]  plays  '. 

*  The  Authorship  of  Sir  Giles  Goosecap,  Modern  Philology.voL  iv,  pp.  25-37 


INTRODUCTION  685 

a  bare  possibility  that  Alphonsus  is  a  work  of  Chapman's  youth,1 
4  written  before  he  had  found  his  own  tragic  style  ',  or  the  product  of 
his  old  age,8  '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  stylistic  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  3  confesses  to 
4  grave  doubts  whether  it  was  Chapman's  work  '  ;  Fleay  4  ascribes  it 
to  Peele  ;  Koeppel 5  produces  strong  internal  evidence  against  the 
authorship  of  Chapman  ;  Ward  6  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  7  finds  it 
4  hard  to  believe  that  Chapman  had  a  hand  in  it '  ;  Robertson  8  holds 
that  the  play  '  can  be  shown  to  be  almost  certainly,  in  large  part, 
Peele's  '  ;  and  finally  Schelling,9  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  close  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- 
fcot's,10  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  in  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  Bttssy  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 

1  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. 

3  Literary  Relations  of  England  and  Germany,  p.  172,  n. 

4  Biog.  Chron.,  vol.  ii,  p.  156. 

6  Loc.  tit.,  p.  78.  c  Op.  cit.,  vol.  ii,  428. 

7  Boas,  Bussy  D'Ambpis,  p.  viii. 

8  Did  Shakespeare  write  Titus  Andronicus,  p.  126. 
8  Elizabethan  Drama,  vol.  i,  136,  228,  437. 

10  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. 


686        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

in  the  highly  imaginative  and  didactic  verse  with  which  he  illustrates 
and  comments  upon  the  story. 

How  does  it  stand  with  Alphonsus,  and  how  far  has  the  author  of 
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  marked  by 
tyranny  and  bloodshed  to  such  a  degree  that x  four  of  the  seven  Electors 
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  Mentz  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  triumph  Alphonsus  is 
murdered  by  his  accomplice  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 
of  Wales,  later  Edward  I,  who  comes  to  Germany  with  his  uncle, 
marries  Hedwig  of  Saxony,  loses  his  bride  through  the  machinations  of 
Alphonsus,  falls  into  the  latter's  hands,  and  is  in  danger  of  death, 
only  to^  be  freed  at  the  last  moment  by  the  sudden  death  of  the 
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  by  a  minority  of  the  College,  he  never  came  to  Germany,  but 
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  Palatinate,  Mentz,  and  Cologne 
supported  Richard.  The  King  of  Bohemia,  who  himself  aspired  to 
the  Empire,  held  aloof  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  battle  of  the  Marchfield  by 
Rudolf  of  Hapsburg.  Mentz,  instead  of  deserting  Richard,  was  his 

1  There  seems  a  slight  contradiction  between  the  speech  of  Alphonsus,  I, 
i,  18-19,  and  the  statement  of  Richard  that  he  was  invited  to  Germany  with 
the  consent  of  all  the  Electors,  II,  i,  12-14  ;  but  this  is  probably  due  to  the 
carelessness  of  the  playwright. 


INTRODUCTION  687 

faithful  and  consistent  supporter.  As  regards  the  sub-plot,  Edward  I 
was  never  in  Germany,  and  did  not  marry  a  German  princess,  but  as 
his  first  wife,  Eleanor  of  Castile,  sister  of  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  Almain, 
son  of  Richard,  who  accompanied  his  father  to  Germany  and  attended 
his  coronation  at  Aachen.  But  Henry  did  not  marry  a  German  princess, 
but  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  fact  that  a  Spaniard  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 
formity  with  this  prejudice.  Now  it  is  a  fact  of  some  significance  in 
determining  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  Vere  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  Philip  II  which  he  puts  into  the  mouths  of  Clermont  and 
Byron  *  respectively  show,  at  the  very  least,  that  he  possessed  the 
faculty,  rare  enough  at  all  times,  naturally  and  notably  rare  in  his 
age,  of  seeing  both  sides  of  a  great  world-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  hand,  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  authorship  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  imagery  overloads  and  hinders  the 
development  of  the  action  ;  the  action  is,  in  fact,  of  secondaiy  interest 
to  Chapman.  The  dialogue  is  his  main  concern.  In  both  the  doubtful 
tragedies  [i.e.  Alpkonsus  and  Revenge  for  Honour]  the  dramatist,  or 
rather  the  play-wright,  intent  upon  stage  effects  and  coups  de  thtdtre, 
pushes  the  poet  into  the  background.  The  action  of  the  play  is  his 
chief  concern,  not  the  poetical  decoration  of  the  dialogue  '.  It  would 
hardly  be  too  much  to  say,  I  think,  that  Chapman  was  a  moral  and 
philosophic  poet  who  wrote  tragedies  because  the  drama  was  the  most 
popular  and  paying  form  of  literature  in  his  day,  and  that  the  author 
of  Alphonsus  was  by  instinct  and  training  a  playwright  who  wrote  in 
verse  simply  because  blank  verse  had  become  since  Marlowe's  day  the 

1  See  Revenue  of  Bussy,  II,  i,  200-234,  and  Th«  Tragedy  of  Byron,  IV,  ii, 
II5-I55. 


688       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

accepted  and  conventional  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 
last  act : 

Let  guilty  minds  tremble  at  sight  of  death ; 
My  heart  is  of  the  nature  of  the  palm, 
Not  to  be  broken,  till  the  highest  bud 
Be  bent  and  tied  unto  the  lowest  root. 

V,  i,  137-40. 

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,  we  shall  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,  thrilling 
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  performance  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  Marlowe.  Now  if  we  compare  A  Iphonsus,  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,  Seli- 
mus,  the  Battle  of  A  Icazar,  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  show  that  it  is  as  superior  to  Bussy  D'Ambois  in  all 
the  qualities  that  go  to  make  an  effective  melodrama  as  it  is  inferior 
to  it  in  depth  of  thought  and  nobility  of  expression. 

It  seems  to  me,  then,  that  a  negative  is  easily  proved  and  that,  on 
the  basis  of  Professor  Koeppel's  arguments,  we  are  justified  in  declaring 
tliat  Alphonsus  is  not  and  cannot  be  the  work  of  Chapman.  To  prove 
an  affirmative  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  which  has  been  connected 
with  Alphonsus  is  that  of  Peele.  And  there  is,  I  believe,  something 
to  be  said  for  Peele 's  authorship  of  the  play.  In  the  first  place  the 
tradition  which  ascribed  it  to  him  is,  as  I  have  already  said,  of  more 
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  than  to  that  of  any  other 


INTRODUCTION  689 

possible  autkor.  Mr.  Robertson,1  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  ion,  ean,  etc.,  into  two  syllables]  are  in  the  normal  style  of 
Peele's  plays  and  of  his  period,  and  that  the  classical  allusions  2  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,  gratulate, 
policy,  sacred,  solemnized,  suspect  (noun),  underbear,  and  zodiac.  To 
these  I  might  add  a  few  others  such  as  empery,  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,3 
it  is  dangerous  to  describe  any  words  as  the  '  favourite  or  special ' 
words  of  one  author.  Empery,  for  example,  which  occurs  three  times 
in  Alphonsus  and  four  times  in  Peele's  undoubted  work,  is  found  also 
in  Byron's  Conspiracy  and  C&sar  and  Pompey  ;  gratulate*  is  found  in 
Bussy.  Underbear  is  found  in  King  John,  underbearing  and  underborne 
in  Richard  II  and  Much  Ado.  All  I  have  been  able  to  learn  from  a 
careful  study  of  the  diction  of  Alphonstts  is  that  it  is  archaic,  including, 
for  example,  such  forms  as  for  to  and  for  why  (the  latter  of  which  occurs 
four  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  A  Iphon- 
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  Alphonsus  seems  plainly  to  echo  in  rhythm  and  diction  a  line  of 
Peele's.  Finally  such  repetitions  as  are  noted  in  V,  i,  181-3  and  V, 
i,  192-6  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  Alphonsus,  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  Alphonsus.  Robertson  himself  remarks 
that  it  runs  strikingly  less  to  alliteration  than  David  and  Bersabe  or 
The  Battle  of  A  Icazar.  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  F erics,  1595,  all  of  later  date  than 

>  Op.  cit.  pp.  123-131. 

»  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 :  At6,  Athamas,  Menoatiades,  Phalaris,  Rhadamanth, 
etc.,  whereas  Chapman,  as  I  have  shown  elsewhere  (The  Nation,  New  York, 
April  15,  1909),  makes  large  draughts  on  his  favourite  classic  authors  for 
sentiments,  similes,  etc. 

3  Crawford's  Concordance  to  Kyd  in  Materialien  zur  Kunde  des    alter  en 
Englischen  Dramas  is  now  complete. 

4  Also  in  three  plays  representing  three  different  periods  of  Shakespeare's 
work,  Richard  III,  Henry  V,  and  Cymbeline. 

C.D.W.  YY 


6go        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

any  of  his  known'plays,  we  find  enough  instances  of  alliteration  to  assure 
us  that  Peele  did  not  abandon  this  trick  as  he  grew  older.  I  cite  a 
few  cases  at  random  : 

Guarded  with  graces  and  with  gracious  trains. 

Desc.  Ast.,  22. 

Graced  by  a  King  and  favour' d  of  his  feres, 
Famed  by  his  followers. 

Garter,  104-5. 

Lead  England's  lovely  shepherds  in  a  dance 
O'er  hill  and  dale,  and  downs  and  daisy-plots. 

Angl.  Per.,  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  monotonous, 
and  makes  a  freer  use  of  double  endings.1  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  lyrical  note,  which  ap 
pears  not  only  in  his  lighter  work,  but  also  in  such  chronicle  plays  as 
David  and  Bersabe  and  Edward  I.  The  dialogue  is,  for  the  most  part, 
livelier  and  more  realistic — in  a  word,  the  dialogue  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  borrow 
Robertson's  phrase,  of  Alphonsus  as  it  now  stands.  I  have  already 
spoken  of  the  comparative  excellence  in  plot  and  structure  of  this 
play  ;  it  occupies,  considered  from  this  aspect  and  from  this  alone,  a 
place  among  its  contemporaries  not  far  behind  the  masterpieces  of 
Marlowe  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  Battle,  less  coherent 
than  Edward  I,  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  Peele's  authorship  of  Al 
phonsus  ?  For  it  we  have  the  old  tradition,  the  presence  of  his  special 
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  thorough  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  satisfactory  answers.  I  venture,  however,  on  a  suggestion 
which  may  perhaps  serve  as  a  working  hypothesis  for  future  investiga 
tion.  Alphonsus  is  unique  among  Elizabethan  plays  for  the  knowledge 

1  Robertson,  pp.  192,  198,  notes  that  the  first  act  of  Alphonsus,  which  he 
confesses  cannot  be  wholly  Peele's  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  course,  decisive,  but  it  adds  force  to  my  assertion, 


INTRODUCTION  691 

it  reveals  of  German  life  and  manners,  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  are 
sprinkled  plentifully  throughout  the  dialogue.  I  cannot  believe  with 
Eobertson,  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  Elze  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  believe,  be  found 
in  the  person  of  Rudolf  Weckherlin.1 

Born  in  1584  of  a  respectable  family  in  Wurtemburg,  Weckherlin 
studied  law  at  Tubingen,  and  spent  some  three  years  in  England  be- 
tween  1607  and  1614,  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  1618  has  German,  English,  French,  and 
Latin  strophes.  His  German  poems  have  been  reprinted  in  the  Biblio- 
thek  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  pur  language.  Is  there  anything  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  Alphonsus,  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.  The 
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  of  Heinrich  Julius,  Duke  of  Brunswick.2  No  English 

1  Weckherlin  has  been  already  suggested  as   a  possible   collaborator  by 
Ward,  English  Dramatic  Literature,  vol.  ii,  p.  428,  n.     I  have  done  little  more 
than  follow  out  his  suggestion. 

2  Heinrich  Julius  of  Brunswick,  1564-1613,  was  the  author  of  eleven  plays, 
all  dated  in  the  early  nineties  and  showing  marked  English  influence. 


692        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF   GERMANY 

author  oi  the  time,  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  roles  by  the  Duke  of  Brunswick.  But 
this  is  exactly  the  sort  of  a  thing  that  a  somewhat  pedantic  German 
of  Weckherlin's  type  might  be  expected  to  do. 

Further,  the  word  scherzkin,  which  occurs  in  IV,  iii,  70  in  the  sense 
of  '  darling  '  is  apparently  unknown  in  German  ;  it  is  not,  at  any  rate, 
recorded  in  Grimm's  Wdrterbuch.  But  we  do  find  there  the  corre 
sponding  South  German  form,  scherzlein  or  schertzelein,  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  ? 

Elze  has,  to  be  sure,  attempted  to  anticipate  such  a  hypothesis  as 
I  have  suggested,  by  the  statement,  p.  32,  that  '  the  German  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  I 
believe  that  it  is  possible  to  conceive  an  Ur-Alphonsus  which,  while 
retaining  the  main  outline  of  the  plot,  should  be  almost  entirely  lacking 
in  the  German  elements  which,  naturally  enough,  seemed  to  Elze  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  revision  as 
I  have  suggested  about  the  year  1636.  But  the  original  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  German 
collaborator  upon  the  final  and  present  form  of  the  play. 

I  cannot  avoid  the  feeling  that  this  is  a  somewhat  lame  and  impo 
tent  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  hypothesis  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 
for  our  knowledge  of  Elizabethan  drama,  if  this  hypothesis  leads  to 
further  investigation  of  the  origin  of  a  unique  and  from  the  historical 
point  of  view  peculiarly  interesting  play,  and,  perhaps,  in  the  end  to  a 
final  settlement  of  the  long  debated  problems  it  has  suggested. 


ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

NOTES  i 

DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

Alphonsus  :  Alphonso  X  of  Castile,  titular  Emperor  of  The  Holy  Roman 
Empire,  1257-73. 

The  King  of  Bohemia  :  *  Ottocar  II,  King  of  Bohemia,  1253-78. 

Bishop  of  Mentz  :    Archbishop  Gerhard  of  Mainz. 

Bishop  o!  Collen  :    Conrad  von  Hochstaden,  Archbishop  of  Cologne. 

Bishop  of  Trier  :  Arnold  von  Isenburg,  Archbishop  of  Trier. 

Palatine  of  the  Rhein  :  Ludwig  II  of  Bavaria,  County  Palatine,  a  leader 
of  the  Hohenstauffen  party  in  Germany,  and  a  supporter  of  Richard. 

Duke  of  Saxon  :  Albrecht  I,  Duke  of  Sachsen- Wittenberg. 

Marquess  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. 

Prince  Edward  :   the  eldest  son  of  Henry  III,  later  Edward  I. 

Richard  :  Richard  of  Cornwall,  younger  brother  of  Henry  III,  and 
Emperor  from  1257-72. 

Lorenzo  de  Cyprus^:     an  imaginary  character,  as  is  his  son,  Alexander. 

Isabella  :  daughter  of  John  of  England,  actually  the  third  wife  of  the 
Emperor  Frederic  II,  Stupor  Mundi. 

Hedewick  :  an  imaginary  character.  No  German  princess  was  ever  mar 
ried  to  Edward  I. 

Jerick  :   i.e.  Jorig,  or  Jorg,  the  Low  German  form  of  George. 

I,  i,  6.  Hot  at  hand  :  quick  at  the  beginning.  See  New  English  Dictionary, 
sub  Hand,  25  c,  and  cf.  a  similar  phrase  in  Julius  Ccesar,  IV,  ii,  23,  usually 
misinterpreted  by  the  editors. 

I,  i,  63.  The  word  aloft  in  the  stage  direction  after  this  line  probably  indicates 
that  the  bed  of  Lorenzo  was  placed  in  the  balcony  overhanging  the  stage. 

I,  i,  63.  Una  arbusta  .  .  .  erithacos  :  a  proverb  going  back  as  far  as  the 
scholia  on  Aristophanes,  Wasps,  1.  922  :  ou  rpe'^ei  ju'a  Xox/xn  *vo  «pt0aKov?. 

I,  i,  100-102.  As  Meyer  has  pointed  out  (Machiavelli  and  The  Elizabethan 
Drama,  p.  134),  this  maxim  is  taken  directly  from  Gentilet's  summary  of 
the  principles  of  Machiavelli  in  his  Discours  sur  les  Moyens  de  bien  gou- 
verner  .  .  .  Contre  Nicholas  Machiavel,  1576.  The  twelfth  maxim  of  the 
third  part  of  Gentilet,  as  given  by  Meyer,  p.  12,  reads  :  '  Le  Prince  doit 
ensuyure  la  nature  du  Lyon,  et  du  Renard  :  non  de  1'un  sans  1'autre  '. 
This  is  derived  from  //  Principe,  chap,  xviii  :  Essendo  adunque  un  prin- 
cipe  necessitato  sapere  bene  usare  la  bestia,  debbe  di  quella  pigliare  la 
volpe  ed  il  leone ;  perche  il  leone  non  si  difende  dai  lacci,  la  volpe  non  si 
difende  da'  lupi.  Bisogna  adunque  essere  volpe  a  conoscere  i  lacci,  e 
lione  a  sbigottire  i  lupi.  Coloro  che  stanno  semplicemente  in  sul  Hone 
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 

1  The  proper  names  given  to  the  seven  Electors  by  the  dramatist  in  I,  ii,  1-40  are  his  own 
nvention.  I  have  here  given  the  real  names  of  the  Electors  in  the  year  1257. 

693 


694        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

conditions  of  the  Fox  and  the  Lion  ;  for  the  Lion  cannot  keep  himself 
from  snares,  nor  the  Fox  defend  himself  against  the  Wolves.  He  had 
need  then  be  a  Fox,  that  he  may  beware  of  the  snares,  and  a  Lion  that 
he  may  scare  the  wolves.  Those  that  stand  wholly  upon  the  Lion,  under 
stand  not  well  themselves  ' — translation  of  Dacres,  1640  (Tudor  Trans 
lations,  vol.  xxxix,  pp.  321-2).  The  original  of  this  passage  appears  to  be 
Plutarch,  Lysander,  vii,  5  :  '  Lysander  said,  "  When  the  lion's  skin  will 
not  serve,  we  must  help  it  with  the  case  of  a  fox  "  '.  A  close  parallel  to  the 
comment  of  Alphonsus  on  this  maxim,  11.  103-7,  occurs  in  the  anonymous 
play  Selimus,  1594,  11.  1732-4  : 

I  like  Lysander's  counsel  passing  well ; 
1  If  that  I  cannot  speed  with  lion's  force, 
To  clothe  my  complots  in  a  fox's  skin '. 

With  the  second  maxim,  11.  109-11,  we  may  compare  Gentilet  B,  i 
(Meyer,  p.  10)  :  '  Un  prince,  sur  toutes  choses,  doit  appeter  d'estre  estime 
devot,  bien  qu'il  ne  le  soit  pas  '.  Cf.  also  Gentilet,  C,  21  (Meyer,  p.  12)  : 
4  Le  Prince  prudent  ne  doit  observer  la  fpy,  quand  1'observation  luy  en 
est  dommageable,  et  que  les  occasions  qui  la  luy  ont  fait  promettre  sont 
passees  '. 

With  the  third,  11.  117-8,  cf.  Gentilet,  C.  6  (Meyer,  p.  12}  :  '  C'est  folie 
de  penser  que  nouveaux  plaisirs  f acent  oublier  vieilles  offences  aux  grands 
Seigneurs '.  This  goes  back  to  //  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  deceiv'd  '  (Tudor  Transla 
tions,  p.  288). 

With  the  fourth  maxim,  1. 157,  cf.  Gentilet,  C.  9  (Meyer,  p.  12)  :  '  Mieux 
vaut  &  un  Prince  d'estre  craint  qu'aime  ',  a  distortion  of  Machiavelli's  state 
ment,  Principe,  xyii,  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,  is  a  liberal  expansion  of  Gentilet,  C.  18 
(Meyer,  p.  12)  :  '  Le  Prince  ne  doit  craindre  de  se  perjurer,  tromper  et  dis- 
simuler  :  carle  trompeur  trouve  tousiours  qui  se  laisse  tromper  '.  Meyer 
remarks,  p.  136,  that  the  poison,  murder,  and  all  kind  of  villanies,  of  our 
text  show  the  influence  of  Marlowe — in  his  tremendous,  but  wilfully 
distorted,  embodiment  of  Machiavellismin  Barabas — and  of  the  subsequent 
dramatic  tradition. 

Of  the  sixth  maxim,  1.173,  Meyer,  p.  1 36,  remarks  :  '  This  is  not  to  be  found 
exactly  as  stated  either  in  Machiavelli  or  Gentilet,  but  must  have  been 
perverted  by  the  dramatists  [sic]  from  Principe  xxiii ',  i.e.  the  chapter 
headed,  in  D acres'  translation,  That  Flatterers  are  to  be  avoyded.'  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  by  the  English  public  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  The  dramatist  probably  gave  it  its  present  shape  to 
account  for  Alphonsus'  murder  of  Lorenzo  at  the  close  of  the  scene. 
It  i,  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.  123,  that  Alphonsus  sought  to  banish  the 
Duke  of  Saxony. 

I,  i,  135-41.     I  find  no  authority  for  this  statement.     Young  victorious  Otho 

tmay  be  Otto  der  Kind,  Herzog  zu  Braunschweig  und  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. 

I,  i,  149.     Holiness  :  Elze  notes  on  the  use  of  this  title  in  I,  ii,  139  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  Holy 

See  (hethger  Stuhl)  like  the  Pope's,  whilst  the  other  Archbishops  were 

styled  Archbishops  of  the  Holy  Cathedrals  of  Collen,  Trier,  etc. '.    The 


NOTES  695 

title  of  '  Holiness '  is  applied  to  Mentz  throughout  this  play ;    once  also 
to  Collen,  IV,  i,  9. 

I,  i,  193.  Aeneas' pilot:  Palinurus.  The  story  of  his  fatal  sleep,  due  to  the 
god  Somnus,  is  told  by  Virgil,  Aeneid,  V,  835,  ssq. 

I,  i,  201-205.  Alphonsus  here  compares  himself  to  an  actor,  who  has  des 
troyed  his  part,  i.e.  the  notes  which  Lorenzo  has  just  dictated  to  him. 
Some  may  think  that  he  has  been  over  hasty  in  so  doing,  but  to  prove  that 
he  studies  sure,  i.e.  gets  his  part  by  heart,  he  will  make  a  backward  re'peti- 
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  into  practice  by  poisoning  his  privy  councillor,  Lorenzo. 

I,  ii.  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  Emperor,  but  the  author 
has  fallen  into  several  slight  errors.  He  gives  a  wrong  order,  of  the  Elec 
tors  in  11.  10-40.  According  to  the  Golden  Bull,  chap,  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  the  others.  The  order  in  voting 
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,  115  is  incorrect.  The  voting  order  was  Trier,  Cologne,  Bohemia, 
Palatine,  Saxony,  Brandenburg,  and  Mainz. 

Further,  the  author  has  confused  the  offices  of  several  of  the  Electors. 
Bohemia  was  not  Sewer  to  the  Emperor  (1.  12),  but  Cupbearer.  Archipin- 
cerna ;  the  Palatine  was  not  exactly  Taster  (1.  19),  but  Seneschal  or  Chief 
Sewer,  A  rchidapifer — Comes  etiam  Palatinus  cibum  afferre  tenebitur,  Golden 
Bull,  chap.  iv.  Cologne  was  not  Chancellor  of  Gallia  (1.  29),  but  of  Italy  ; 
and,  vice  versa,  Trier  was  not  Chancellor  of  Italy  (1.  37),  but  of  Gallia,  i.e. 
of  Burgundy  and  Aries.  Finally,  the  author  seems  to  have  mistranslated 
the  Latin  title  of  the  Margrave  of  Brandenburg,  Archicamerarius.  This 
might  mean  Treasurer  (1.  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  .  .  .  matiibus  minis- 
travit. 

I,  ii,  5.  The  seven  pillars.  Elze  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  this  epithet 
is  taken  from  the  Golden  Bull,  chap,  xii :  Sacri  Imperil  Principes  Electores 
.  .  .  qui  solidi  bases  Imperii  et  columnoe  immobiles,  etc. 

I,  ii,  16.  Duke  of  Pomerland.  i.e.  Pomerania.  Gerhard  of  Mainz,  who  sup 
ported  Richard  of  Cornwall,  had  no  connexion  with  Pomerania.  The  state 
ment  that  the  Archbishop  of  Trier  was  Duke  of  Lorraine  (1.  37)  is  equally 
unhistorical. 

I,  ii,  66.  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,  77-79.  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 
had  reached  a  decision.  There  seems  some  reference  to  this  custom  in 
Bohemia's  remark. 

I,  ii,  131.  By  a  full  consent :  by  a  unanimous  agreement  of  the  Electors. 
This  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  facts. 

I,  U,  135.     Him :  Alphonsus. 

I,  ii,  204.  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  of  Oxford  was  held 
in  the  year  after  Richard's  election,  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,  ii,  215.     I  have  not  noted  any  instance  of  the  archaic  for  why  in  Chapman's 

I,  ii,  235.  For  age  and  age :  forever  and  ever.  See  The  New  English  Dic 
tionary,  sub  Age,  10. 

I,  ii,  236.  A  :  a  common  Elizabethan  abbreviation  for  '  he  '.  It  is  not,  I 
think,  used  by  Chapman  in  his  tragedies. 

I,  ii,  253.     Ccesar's  :   the  reference  is  to  the  Emperor  Alphonsus. 

I,  ii,  261.     Wehrhaftig  :    capable  of  bearing  arms. 

I,  ii,  261-5.    There  seems  a  reference  here  to  the  so-called  Schwabenalter. 

It  was  said  by  way  of  derision  of  the  lethargic  and  thick-witted  Suabians 
that  it  took  a  boy  forty  years  to  grow  up  to  manhood  among  them  Ein 
Schwab  braucht  vierzig  Jahr  um  klug  zu  sein.  The  custom  of  promoting 
a  boy  to  manhood  by  giving  him  a  box  on  the  ear  and  girding  him  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  erhielte  ich 
bald  von  ihm,  dass  er  mir  einen  Degen  schenckte  und  mich  mit  einer  Maul- 
tasche  Wehrhafft  machte. 

lit  i,  36.  Count  Mansfield :  probably  a  reference,  with  the  characteristic 
Elizabethan  disregard  of  anachronism,  to  Count  Ernest  Mansfield,  son  of 
Count  Peter  Ernest  who  appears  in  Byron's  Conspiracy,  I,  ii,  182-90. 
Count  Ernest  had  taken  a  prominent  part  in  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  serving 
first  under  Frederick  of  the  Palatinate.  He  had  visited  England  in  1624 
to  strengthen  the  Protestant  Alliance  against  the  League.  He  died  in 
1626,  rising  from  a  sick  bed  to  put  on  full  armour  and  die  standing. 

II,  i,  46.     The  Emperors  :   i.e.  Alphonsus  and  Bohemia  himself,  who  has  been 
made  joint  Emperor,  I,  ii,  165-78. 

II,  ii,  50.  The  Ambidexter :  the  Vice,  or  comic  character  in  the  old  play  of 
Cambises,  printed  1569-70,  the  work  of  Thomas  Preston  of  Cambridge. 
It  seems  to  have  been  well  known  for  many  years  after  its  first  appearance, 
as  it  is  referred  to  by  Shakespeare  in  i  K.H.  IV,  II,  iv,  425  :  /  must  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  original  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  the  old  play,  Sir  Clyomon  and  Sir  Clamydes,  formerly  ascribed 
to  Peele  (Bulleu's  Works  of  Peele,  vol.  ii,  p.  131)  ;  but  by  Kittredge  (Journal 
of  Germ.  Phil.,  vol.  ii,  p.  8)  to  Preston. 

II,  ii,  8^91.  '  Look  you,  that  is  not  the  custom  here  !  My  God,  is  that  the 
English  fashion  ?  May  [the  devil  take]  you  '. 

n>  ii,  94.    His  country  fashion.    The  old  English  custom  of  greeting  guests  or 

strangers  with  a  kiss  excited  much  comment  from  foreigners.     The  locus 

classicus  regarding  this  fashion  is  the  letter  of  Erasmus  to  Andrelini  (Epis- 

tolce,  no.  103,  edited  by  Allen,  1906)  :  *  Est  proeterea  mos  nunquam  satis 

laudatus.     Sive  quo  venias,  omnium  osculis  excipieris  ;  sive  discedas  aliquo, 

oscuhs   dimitteris;    redis,   redduntur  suavia;   venitur  ad  te,   propinantur 

suavia;    disceditur  abs  te,   dividuntur  basia  ;    occuritur  alicubi,   basiatur 

affatim;  denique  quocunque  te  moveas,  suaviorum  plena  sunt  omnia,  Quot 

tu,  fiauste,  gustasses  semel  quam  sint  mollicula,  quam  fragrantia,  profecto 

*™^0*  Ot  ihis  P*ssa&e  *^he  beginning  of  TheDvchess  of 


NOTES  697 

cuperes  non  decennium  solum  .  .  .  sed  ad  mortem  [usque  tn  Anglia  pere- 
grinari. 

n,  ii,  117-8.  '  May  [the  devil  take]  you  !  Must  I,  poor  child,  be  put  to 
shame  ? ' 

II,  ii,  123-4.  '  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  '. 

II,  ii,  126-7.     '  Gracious  lady,  forgive  me  ;    I  will  never  do  it  again  '. 

II,  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. 

II,  ii,  138-42.  '  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  may 
understand  me  '.  The  word  filz,  1.  141,  is  the  same  as  the  English  '  felt ' , 
'  stuff ',  but  it  is  used  in  the  idioms,  filz  geben,  austeilen,  etc.,  in  the  sense 
of  '  snub  '  or  '  reproof  '.  See  Grimm's  Worterbuch,  sub  Filz. 

n,  ii,  158-9.  Saxon  had  given  Isabella  full  power  to  conclude  the  marriage 
arrangements  of  his  daughter. 

II,  ii,  167-70.  '  Is  your  Grace  content  with  this  ?  '  '  What  your  Serene 
Highness  wishes,  my  father  wishes,  and  what  my  father  wishes  therewith 
must  I  be  content '. 

II,  ii,  198.     His  life's  reproach  :   reproaches  heaped  upon  his  life. 

n,  ii,  231.     Selected  :   this  word  modifies  Emperor's,  not  Electors. 

lit  iii  238-9.  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,  1-9.  Such  a  reference  is  not  at  all  in  the 
manner  of  Chapman,  but  quite  like  Peele,  the  '  true-blue  '  Englishman. 

II,  ii,  296-302.  Possibly  we  have  here  an  allusion  to  the  old  Hamlet  and  the 
Ghost  which  cried  so  miserably  at  the  Theatre  '  Hamlet,  revenge  '. 

II,  ii,  305.  Gripping  at  our  lots  :  Elze  notes  this  as  a  Germanism,  as  con 
trasted  with  the  usual  English  phrase  '  draw  lots  '. 

II,  ii,  314.  For  to  help  :  I  have  not  noticed  any  instance  of  this  archaic  form 
of  the  infinite  in  Chapman. 

II,  ii,  821.  See  Text  Notes,  pp.  706-7.  I  interpret  the  emended  lines  as  follows : 
'  Dutch  boors  are  devilish  rogues  ',  etc.  Towsandt  schelms,  I  interpret,  on 
the  analogy  of  such  phrases  as  '  Tausendsassa  '  =  '  Teufelskerl ',  '  Tausend- 
kiinstler  '  =  '  Teufel '  as  equivalent  to  '  the  devil's  own  rogues  '. 

II,  ii,  324.  By  your  Highness  :  This  seems  to  me  rather  a  Germanism  than 
idiomatic  Elizabethan  English. 

II,  ii,  325.  This  clumsy  device  smacks  9f  the  earliest  period  of  Elizabethan 
drama.  A  similar  one  is  preserved  in  Titus  Andronicus,  II,  iii. 

n,  ii,  345.  Rhadamant :  Rhadamanthus,  one  of  the  three  judges  of  the  dead 
along  with  Minos  and  ^Eacus.  He  appears  frequently  in  Elizabethan 
drama  in  this  role  ;  cf.  The  Spanish  Tragedy,  I,  i,  33. 

n,  iii,  3.     A  plumper  boor :    '  a  lubberly  peasant ',  Elze. 

II,  iii,  28.     Aix :  Aix-la-Chapelle,  the  city  in  which  the  Emperors  of  the  Holy 

•   •  Roman  Empire  received  the  crown  of  Germany  from  813  to  1531. 

n,  iii,  33-36.  '  Come  here,  Hans  ;  where  art  thou  ?  Why  art  thou  so  sad  ? 
Be  merry  !  You  may  earn  much  money;  we  will  kill  him,  by  gad'. 
'  Let  me  see  the  letters '. 

II,  iii,  39-41.  '  Hans  and  Jerick,  my  dear  friends,  I  pray  keep  it  a  secret^and 
kill  the  Englishman.' 

II,  iii,  53-100. 

Jer.     What  say  you,  will  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  ! 
Hans.    Gentleman,  the  devil  1  he  is  a  boor. 


698       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

Rich.     You  are  a  rascal,  keep  off  ! 

Jer.  Hallo,  hallo,  are  you  so  proud  ?  Sir  boor,  come  here,  or  the  devil 
take  you. 

Rich.     I  am  a  Prince  ;  don't  lay  hands  on  me,  you  rogues,  you  traitors  I 

Both.     Strike,  strike.     We'll  treat  you  like  a  prince. 

Rich.     O  God,  receive  my  spirit  into  thy  hands. 

Jer.  O  excellent,  fine  !  He's  dead,  he's  dead.  Let  us  see  what  money 
he  has  on  him.  Hallo,  here's  enough,  quite  enough  ;  there's  for  you,  and 
there's  for  me,  and  this  I'll  take  into  the  bargain. 

Hans.     How  so,  Jack  fool?     Hand  me  over  the  chain. 

Jer .  Yes,  like  fun  !  This  chain  looks  fine  on  my  neck ;  I'm  going  to 
wear  it. 

Hans.  The  falling  sickness  blast  you  !  You  shall  never  do  that,  you 
rogue. 

Jer.    What,  do  you  call  me  rogue  ?     Take  that  ! 

Hans.  A  hundred  thousand  devils  take  you  !  Wait  a  bit,  I'll  learn 
you  ! 

Jer.    Will  you  strike  or  thrust  ? 

Hans.     I'll  strike  fair. 

Jer .    Very  well ;  there's  my  back,  strike  away. 

Hans.    Take  that  !     And  here's  my  back. 

Jer.  Once  more  !  O  excellent,  are  you  down  ?  Now  I'll  have  every 
thing,  money  and  chain,  and  the  whole  lot.  O  fine,  cheer- up,  jolly  !  Now 
I'm  a  fine  gentleman. 

Rich.  You  villain,  rogue,  murderer,  turn  here,  do  you  see  me  ?  Give 
me  the  chain  and  the  money  back. 

Jer.  What,  are  you  come  to  life  again  ?  Then  I  must  defend  myself. 
Will  you  thrust  or  strike  ? 

Rich.    That's  what  I'll  do,  you  rogue  ! 

Jer.  Wait,  wait  a  bit.  If  you're  a  honest  fellow,  fight  fair.  O  I'm 
dying,  I'm  dying.  Let  me  live. 

Rich.  Tell  me  then  who  wrote  the  letters.  Don't  lie,  but  speak  the 
truth. 

Jer .  O  my  honourable,  good,  noble,  worshipful  gentleman,  there  is  the 
money  and  the  chain  back  again ;  you  shall  have  it  all  back,  but  who 
wrote  the  letters,  that  I  don't  know  upon  my  soul. 

Rich.    Lie  still  there,  still,  I  say. 

*  *  *  *  * 

So  die,  rogue  ! 

Jer.    O,  I'm  dying,  oh,  oh,  oh  !    The  devil  fly  away  with  you  ! 
Sax.     Fie  upon  you,  wretched  villain,  have  you  killed  your  comrade  ? 
Pal.    Let  us  seize  the  villain. 

II,  iii,  118.    Bistu :   an  old  German  contraction  for  bist  du,  aft  thou. 

HI,  i,  10.  Watt  up :  Elze  takes  this  phrase  as  a  Germanism  equivalent  to 
aufwarten,  i.e.  attend. 

HI,  i,  21.  The  Fool  rides  thee.  It  seems  to  have  been  a  common  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.  120)  points  out  that  such  an  exit  for  the 
Vice  occurs  in  only  one  surviving  play,  Like  Will  to  Like  ;  but  a  passage  in 
Jonson,  The  Devil  is  An  Ass,  V,  iv,  proves,  I  think,  that  the  practice  was 
well  known.  When  Iniquity,  the  Vice  of  J onsen's  play,  takes  Pug,  the 
Devil,  upon  his  shoulders,  he  exclaims 

The  Devil  was  wont  to  carry  away  the  Evil, 
But  now  the  Evil  outcarries  the  Devil. 

The  phrase  the  Evil  in  these  lines  is  evidently  a  synonym  for  the  Vice. 

III,  i,  29.     Reinfal :  a  southern  wine,  highly  prized  in  Germany  in  the  Middle 
Ages.     Grimm,  Worterbuch,  says  that  the  oldest  German  form  of  the  word 
is  raivul,  from  vinum  rivale.    The  attempt  to  fix  the  spot  whence  this  sort 
of  wine  came  does  not  appear  to  have  been  successful,  although  various 


NOTES  699 

places,  such  as  Rivoglio  in  Istria,  Rivoli  in  the  territory  of  Verona,  Rivallo 
west  of  Trieste,  and  others,  have  been  suggested. 

HI,  i,  32.  Elze  fancies  that  something  has  been  lost  before  this  speech.  But 
it  is  not  necessary  to  assume  this.  The  connexion  between  the  speech  of 
Alphonsus,  11.  26-31,  and  the  reply  of  the  Empress,  lies  in  the  phrase, 
unexpected  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. 

HI,  i,  46.  Es  gilt :  an  expression  used  in  drinking  a  health,  equivalent  to 
'  here  is '. 

Ill,  i,  48.  '  God  help  me,  it  shall  be  a  welcome  pledge  to  me '.  Sam, 
according  to  Grimm's  Worterbuch,  occurs  regularly  in  such  phrases  as 
Sam  mir  Gott,  i.e.  so  wahr  mir  Gott  helfen  moge,  Sam  mir  der  Heilige 
Grab,  etc.  Professor  Schick  informs  me  that  in  Wiirtemburg  Sam  Gott 
is  still  a  common  colloquial  response  to  Prosit,  the  word  which  accompanies 
the  drinking  of  a  health. 

Ill,  i,  52.  Troll  out.  Elze  did  not  understand  this  phrase  (see  Text  Notes, 
p.  708) ;  but  it  is  a  not  uncommon  idiom.  See  Tempest,  III,  ii,  126,  troll 
the  catch,  and  Paradise  Lost,  XI,  616,  troll  the  tongue. 

Ill,  i,  58.  '  To  that  end  here's  another  health,  Your  Majesty '.  '  God  help 
me,  let  it  come '. 

Ill,  i,  61-2.  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  Church 
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  marriage 
in  prayer  and  so  escaped  the  death  which  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  wer.e  actually  sold  by  priests  to  eager  husbands.  See  on  this 
subject,  Karl  Weinhold,  Die  deutschen  Frauen  in  dem  Mittelalter,  p.  268, 
and  Du  Meril  Edelstand,  Etudes  sur  quelques  points  d'Archtologie,  p.  72. 

Ill,  i,  81-3.  '  Will  you  sleep  with  me  to-night '  ?  '  God  forbid,  I  hope 
your  Majesty  will  not  ask  it  of  me  '. 

in,  i,  87.  A  Jacob's  staff :  an  astronomical  instrument,  formerly  used  for 
taking  the  altitude  of  the  sun.  It  is  mentioned  by  Webster  (The  White 
Devil,  I,  u,  102),  Nash  (Piers  Penniless),  and  Overbury  (Character  of  an 
Almanack-maker)  ;  but  nowhere  with  the  implied  meaning  it  has  here. 

Ill,  i,  100.  We'll  drink  about.  Elze  refers  to  this  as  a  German  custom,  Herum 
trinken,  but  something  very  similar  was  known  in  England  in  Elizabethan 
times  and  even  later.  Cf.  the  '  round  '  of  healths  in  All  Fools,  V,  ii,  53- 
76. 

HI,  i,  112.  Hupsch  boor-maikins :  i.e.  hiibsche  Bauer-madchen,  pretty 
peasant  girls. 

m,  i,  129.  Sets  my  teeth  an  edge  :  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  im.K.H.  IV,  III,  i,  133,  where  the  oldest  editions 
(all  the  Qq.,  except  3  and  4,  and  FI)  read  an  edge. 

in,  i,  131.  Though  thy  robes  be  homely:  Isabel  is  dressed  as  a  chambermaid ; 
cf.  II,  ii,  26. 

Ill,  i,  132.  In  the  stage  direction  after  this  line  the  links  or  puddings  are, 
of  course,  sausages.  The  mitre  was  probably  a  high  peaked  hat.  The 
corances  are  chaplets  or  garlands,  German  Kranz.  Cf.  the  reading  of  the 
quartos,  crants,  in  Hamlet,  V,  ii,  255,  where  the  folio  has  rites. 

Ill,  i,  140-1.  Dorp:  village,  thorpe.  Cf.  German  Dorf.  Scfo'nfon  =  bain, 
or,  as  the  stage  direction  above  has  it,  '  a  gammon '. 

Ill,  i,  144.  Nippitate :  good,  prime,  an  adjective  formed  from  nippitate,  or 
nippitato,  '  good  ale  '.  See  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle,  IV,  ii. 

Ill,  i,  146.  Rommer  dantzen  :  '  rammer  or  rummer  is  a  corruption  of  herum  ', 
Elze.  The  phrase  means  '  dance  around '. 


700       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR   OF  GERMANY 

in,  i,  151.  An  Almain  and  an  upspring :  an  Almain  is  a  dance  taking  its 
name  from  the  country  of  its  origin,  '  Almaine  ',  i.e.  Germany,  It  seems  to 
have  been  a  slow  and  stately  measure ;  see  the  stage  direction  in  Peele's 
Arraignment  of  Paris,  II,  i,  161 ;  Nine  knights  in  armour,  treading  a  warlike 
almain,  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, 
p.  207).  The  upspring,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  German  Hiipfauft  '  the 
last  and  wildest  dance  at  the  old  German  merry  makings  ',  Elze. 
Ill,  i,  155.  The  dance  represented  in  the  stage  direction  after  this  line  ap 
pears  to  be  a  form  of  the  '  Almain  '.  The  foredance  is  the  German  Vortanz. 
The  New  English  Dictionary  gives  no  instance  of  this  word. 
Ill,  i,  157.  '  Away,  peasant,  and  make  love  to-morrow  '.  Loffeln  frequently 
occurs,  Elze  says,  in  German  writers  of  this  date.  Grimm,  Worterbuch, 
says  it  is  originally  a  piece  of  students'  slang  ;  cf.  our  slang  phrases  '  to  be 
spoons  on  ',  '  spoony  '.  To  house  :  home,  a  Germanism,  equivalent  to  the 
German  phrase  zu  Haus,  '  at  home  ',  or  '  home  '. 

HI,  i,  161-4.  '  Here's  to  you,  peasant '  !  '  God  help  me !  Oh,  maiden, 
help  me  then  !  Oh,  maiden,  drink.  Here's  a  health,  good  friend,  a  merry 
draught '. 

HI,  i,  164.  There  is  a  close  parallel  to  the  poisoning  indicated  in  the  stage 
direction  after  this  line  in  Antonio's  Revenge,  I,  i,  66-70,  where  Piero  tells 
how  after  drinking  to  Andrugio  he  dropped  poison  in  the  cup  and  handed 
it  to  him  to  return  the  pledge. 

IXZf  i,  172.  Pepper'd.  Alexander  had  been  the  first  to  taste  the  cup,  1.  161, 
so  that  if  it  should  be  poisoned,  he  is  '  done  for  '.  The  use  of  '  pepper' d  ' 
in  this  sense  is  common  in  Elizabethan  English,  see  the  New  English 
Dictionary,  sub  Pepper,  5. 

HI,  i,  175-^7.  '  What  is  it,  what  is  it,  what  will  you  do  to  me  ?  '  '  Drink 
out,  drink  out,  or  the  devil  fly  off  ,with  you '.  '  Oh,  content  you,  I'll 
gladly  drink  '. 

Ill,  i,  179.    Spanish  flies  :  the  popular  name  of  the  beetles  which  furnish  the 
drug  cantharides,  used  here,  with  reference  to  the  native  country  of  Alphon- 
sus,  as  equivalent  to  '  poison '. 
Ill,  i,  180.     This  :  i.e.  the  reappearance  in  disguise  of  Saxon  and  Palsgrave, 

who  had  seceded  from  the  conclave  of  the  Electors,  cf.  I,  ii,  191. 
Ill,  i,  201.     Fear  myself  :  i.e.  '  fear  for  myself  ',  a  not  uncommon  Elizabethan 
idiom;    cf.  Richard  III,  I,  i,  137  :  His  physicians  fear  him  mightily,  and 
All's  Well,  III,  v,  31 :    You  shall  not  need  to  fear  me.     I  owe  these  refer 
ences  to  Mr.  Daniel. 

in,  i,  227.     For  to  unlace:  cf.  note  on  II,  ii,  314. 

Ill,  i,  271.  Lansknights  :  one  of  the  various  forms  of  the  English  rendering 
of  the  German  Landsknecht ;  others  are  '  launceknights ',  a  popular  ety 
mology,  and  the  commoner  '  lansquenet ',  through  the  French.  Accord 
ing  to  Grimm's  Worterbuch,  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. 

Ill,  i,  289,291. 
HI,  i, 
which, 

ever,  in  the  Proverbs  of  John  Heywood,  1562,  Part  I,  chap,  v,  'When all 
candles  be  out,  all  cats  be  gray.' 

m,  i,  337.  As  Robertson  (loc.  cit.,  p.  127)  points  out,  this  line  is  an  echo  of 
one  in  Peele's  Arraignment  of  Paris,  II,  i,  176  : 

To  ravish  all  thy  beating  veins  with  joy. 
lU,  i,  348.    Ate:  the  goddess  of  mischief. 
HI,  i,  358.     Cf.  I,  i,  179-82  ;   but  there  is  no  need  of  assuming  that  the  two 

poisons  are  the  same. 
m,  i,  359.     Cf.  Peele,  Edward  I,  sc.  xxv.,  1.  112:  The  wanton  bates  that  made 

me  suck  my  bane. 
Ill,  i,  378.     Travants  :  an  English  rendering  of  the  German  Trabant,  a  guards- 


NOTES  701 

man.     I  doubt  whether  the  word  occurs  elsewhere  in  English ;   it  is  not 

given  in  the  Century  Dictionary. 

Elze  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  an  indignity  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  Alphonsus  ;    a 

similar  indignity  occurs  in  Ford's  'Tis  Pity  She's  a  Whore,  IV,  iii,  but  no 

one  has  yet  suggested  that  Ford  wrote  Alphonsus. 
HI,  i,  384-5.     Like  a  strumpet,  etc. ;    probably  a  reference  to  the  story  of 

Rahab,  Joshua,  ii,  1-15. 
IV,  i,  22.     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,  132,  stage 

direction. 

IV,  i,  83.     Suspicious  of :   the  context,  I  think,  shows  that  this  means  '  sus 
pected  by '  and  so  in  danger  from,  Alphonsus ;    but  the  phrase  might  be 

taken  in  its  usual  sense. 
IV,  i,  89-94.     '  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 '. 
IV,  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? 
IV,  i,  112-3.     '  Hedewick,  the  Prince  says  he  did  not  sleep  with  you  '.     '  It 

pleases  him  to  say  so,  but  I  felt  it  well  enough  '. 
IV,  i,  119.     '  Eh,  dear,  why  should  you  ask  ?  ' 
IV,  i,  124.     '  That  hast  thou  done,  or  the  devil  take  me '. 
IV,  i,  140.     Pack  thee :   Elze  reckons  this  reflexive  use  as  a  Germanism,  but 

it  occurs  in  English  as  early  as  Kennedy's  Fly  ting,  1508,  and  in  Chester's 

Love's  Martyr,  1601. 
IV,  i,  188.     Cf.  similar  archaic  forms  in  II,  ii,  314,    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.  Per.,  1.  202. 
IV,  i,  209.    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. 
IV,  ii,  7.     Tartarian,  of  Tartary.     As  a  rule  the  adjective  signifies  '  pertaining 

to  Tartarus '  ;    thus  Paradise  Lost,  II,  69  ;    but  Marlowe,  i  Tamburlaine, 

III,  iii,  151,  has  the  white  Tartarian  hills,  a  line  which,  as  Robertson  (op. 

cit.,  p.  132)  points  out,  is  imitated  here. 
IV,  ii,  9-10.     Koeppel  (loc.  cit.,  p.  79)  sees  so  close  a  resemblance  between  the 

simile  in  these  lines  and  a  passage  in  Shakespeare  as  to  indicate  imitation 

on  the  part  of  the  author  of  Alphonsus.    Cf.  King  John,  V,  vii,  30-4 : 

There  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. 

IV,  ii,  29.  The  cold  swift-running  Rhein  :  Elze  in  his  note  on  this  line  remarks 
that  '  the  Rhine  could  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. 

IV,  ii,  74.    With  these  words  Alphonsus  feigns  a  recurrence  of  his  pains. 

IV,  ii,  84.    The  speech  is  interrupted  here  by  a  feigned  swoon. 

IV,  ii,  96.     I  have  wrong :    I  am  wronged.     Cf.  Venus  and  Adonis,  1.  329  : 
The  heart  hath  treble  wrong. 

IV,  iii.  The  appearance  of  Hedewick  with  the  Child  at  the  beginning  of  this 
scene  furnishes  one  of  the  most  amusing  instances  of  the  Elizabethan  dis- 


702        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

regard  for  the  unity  of  time.  The  child  was  begotten  on  the  night  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  following,  see  III,  i,  357-8,  and  437.  Consequently  we 
are  forced  to  imagine  an  interval  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  stage  were  played  consecutively,  and  without 
interval.  It  is  against  absurdities  of  this  sort  that  Sidney's  attack  in  the 
Defense  of  Poesie  is  directed. 

IV,  iii,  1.  Map  of  misery  :  picture,  or  image  of  misery.  Cf .  Monsieur  D'Olive, 
lt  i,  403  :  Farewell,  the  true  map  of  a  gull. 

A  closer  parallel  occurs  in  Titus  Andronicus,  III,  ii,  12,  where  the  phrase 
Thou  map  of  woe  {is  applied  to  a  distressed  lady.  This  scene  of  Titus 
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.  '. 

IV,  iii,  25.  Lamps  :  Elze  compares  the  phrasing  of  the  English  translation 
of  the  Golden  Bull,  1619  :  '  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  Dictionary,  sub  Lamp,  3. 

IV,  iii,  3(HJ.  The  text  is  confused  here,  probably  owing  to  the  .haste  and 
confusion  of  the  writer.  There  are  three  generations  of  the  Saxon  blood 
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.  160)  can  be  represented  as  kneeling  to  its  putative 
father. 

IV,  iii,  61.  Athamas  :  Athamas  was  driven  mad  by  a  fury  sent  against  him 
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,  416-562. 

IV,  iii,  70-2.  '  Ah,  my  sweet  Edward,  my  sweetheart,  my  darling,  my  dear 
and  only  beloved,  my  dearest  husband,  I  prithee,  my  love,  look  kindly 
upon  me ;  good  sweetheart,  tell  the  truth  '. 

IV,  iii,  73-5.  '  For  I  am  thine,  and  thou  art  mine,  thou  hast  given  me  a 
little  child;  oh,  Edward,  sweet  Edward,  have  pity  on  him',  Allerlievest, 
11-  7i,  73,  corresponds  to  the  English  '  alder-liefest ' :  see  2  K.H.  VI,  I. 
i,  28. 

IV,  iii,  78.     '  Dear  Edward,  you  know  I  am  your  dearest  wife '. 

IV,  iii,  82-4.  '  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,  iii,  86.  Hold  me  ...  up :  Elze  takes  this  as  a  Germanism,  equivalent 
to  halte  mich  auf.  I  can  find  no  exact  parallel  to  it  in  English,  but  it  is 
nearly  akin  to  '  hold  in  suspense '. 

IV,  iii,  94-6.  '  O  father,  oh,  my  [father,  spare  my  child  !  O  Edward,  oh. 
Prince  Edward,  speak  now  or  nevermore.  The  child  is  mine,  it  must  not 
die '. 

IV,  iii,  118-9.  '  Ah,  father,  give  me  my  child,  the  child  is  mine '.  '  I  know 
that  well ;  he  says  it  is  not  his  '. 

IV,  iii,  121.     '  O  God  in  his  throne  !     O  my  child,  my  child  !  ' 

*"»  134-5.     '  Alas,  alas,  and  woe  is  me,  why  said  not  your  Excellency  so 

b..e.fo,r!Lnow'  now  'tis  to°  late>  our  P°or  child  is  killed  '• 
f  m».1**~**»     '  My  father,  I  beg  upon  my  knee,  let  me  rather  die.     Fare- 
TW    -   'i  Edward,  false  Prince,  I  desire  it  not  [i.e.  to  live  with  thee]  '. 

IV,  111,  142.    Hammer  in  thy  head :    Mr.  Robertson,  op.  cit.,  pp.  47-8,  notes 

that  this  phrase  is  used  by  Lodge  (Wounds  of  Civil  War]  and  Greene  (Orlando 
TW    ..?n,°i«  and  vari°us  prose  works).     It  does  not  appear  to  be  used  by  Peele. 
TTT   -1"'  I/?*  r  A  °  Lord  God'  take  mV  soul  into  Thy  hands  '. 
iX'  *"'  V9"50-     '  °  Lord  of  Sabaoth,  may  my  innocence  come  to  light  % 
IV,  111,  155.     That,  i.e.  that  which- 


NOTES  703 

V,  i,  20.    For  to  divert:   another  instance  of  the  archaic  infinitive. 
V,  i,  21.     Triumph :   For  the  accentuation  cf.  Ill,  i,  34  and  1.  282  below. 
V,  i,  28.     Carry  not  that  conceit :  do  not  imagine. 
V,  i,  37,  89.     Vital  blood ;   bloody  banquet :   see  Introduction,  p.  689. 
V,  i,  66.    The  metre  seems  to  demand  the  pronunciation  Colle'n  here,  cf. 
modern  English  \Colo'gne  ' ;   but  in  1.  72  below  we  have  Co'llen,  as  usual 
in  this  play.     I  doubt  whether  any  inference  as  to  various  authorship  can 
be  drawn  from  this  apparent  difference  in  pronunciation. 
V,  i,  78.     Object,     For  this  word  Elze  suggests  aspect ;  but  the  meaning  given 
in  the  New  English  Dictionary  under  Object,  I,  3,  b,  '  something  which  on 
being  seen  excites  a  particular  emotion ',  exactly  fits  this  passage. 
V,  i,  75.     Children:  a  trisyllable. 

V,  i,  123.     Rose-corance.    Cf.  note  on  III,  ii,  132.    Elze  notes  that  '  in  Ger 
many  a  "  Rosenkranz  "  served  as  a  symbol  of  virginity  and  therefore  in 
old  popular  songs  it  often  denotes  maidenhead  itself '. 
V,  i,  132.     Count  not  of  a  dignity.     Elze  suggests  'count  it  of  a  dignity,  i.e.  '  I 
think  it  a  dignity  '.     But  this  seems  to  me  a  misunderstanding  of  the 
passage,  which  means,  I  take  it,  '  I  do  not  take  account  of  my  dignity  '. 
See  New  English  Dictionary  under  Count,  8,  '  to  think  much,  or  little,  of, 
to  care  for  ',  and  cf.  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  II,  i,  65  :  no  man  counts  of 
her  beauty. 
V,  i,  166.    Alphonso  :  This  form  occurs  only  in  this  line  and  in  1.  .415  below. 

Elsewhere  we  have  Alphonsus. 
V,  i,  181-3.    See  Introduction,  p.  689. 
V,  i,  248.     Secrets  :  a  trisyllable. 
V,  i,  278.    Justful.    This  word  occurs  nowhere   in  Chapman's  plays,  and 

the  repetition  rightful,  justful,  is  very  much  in  Peele's  style. 
V,  i,  290.     The  Princes  :   i.e.  Saxon,  Trier  and  Brandenburg,  who  have  just 

defeated  Richard  and  Collen. 

V,  i,  296-8.     The  repetition  of  victory  in  these  lines  is  in  Peele's  manner. 
V,  i,  308-24.    The  condition  imposed  upon  the  Emperor,  his  acceptance  of 
it,  and  Alexander's  murder  of  him  thereafter  with  the  intent  of  sending 
his  soul  to  hell,  all  find  a  close  parallel  in  Jack  Wi lion  (Nash,  Works,  vol.ii, 
pp.  325-6,  McKerrow's  edition).  A  similarjstory  occurs  in  the  German  novel, 
Simplicissimus,  already  referred  to,  I,  i,  14,  p.  96.     Langbaine's  references 
in  this  connexion  are  to  works  published  too  late  to  be  the  source  of  this 
passage. 
V,  i,  327.     Take  my  heels  :  The  usual  idiom  is  '  take  to  one's  heels  ' ;  but  this 

phrase  occurs  in  Comedy  of  Errors,  I,  ii,  94,  and  Cymbeline,  V,  iii,  67. 
V,  i,  346.     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  New  English  Dictionary,  sub  Coast,  6,  c. 
V,  i,  348.     My  lord :  i.e.  Trier. 

V,  i,  360.     Menoetiades  :    Patroclus.     The  reference  is  to  Achilles'  slaughter 

of  twelve  Trojan  captives  upon  the  pyrej  of  Patroclus,  Iliad,  XXIII,  175-7. 

V,  i,  390-2.     Robertson,  op.  cit.,  p.  129,  calls  attention  to  a  parallel  in  Titus 

Andronicus,  V,  i,  65  :   complots  of  mischief,  treason,  villanies. 
V,  i,  430.     Robertson,  p.  127,  cites  this  line  as  showing  Peele's  trick  of  repe 
tition. 
V,  i,  442-3.     Cf.  Laocoon  ardens  summa  decurrit  ab  arce  (Aeneid,  II,  41). 

Troy's  overthrow  is,  of  course,  the  wooden  horse. 

V,  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  Pindar,  Pythia,  I,  185. 

V,  i,  471,  474-6.  The  barbarous  mode  of  punishment  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,  §  35  (Tubingen,  1785),  who  says 
I  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 
of  the  practice,  and  in  Gruelin's  times  it  had  been  abandoned.  See  also 


704       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 

Questorp,  Grundsatze  der  deutschen  peinlichen  Rechtes,  vol.  i,  p.  89  (Leipzig 
1794). 

TEXT  NOTES 

There  is  but  one  old  edition1  of  Alphonsus,  that  published  by  Moseley  in 
1654.  I  refer  to  this  edition  as  Q.  The  play  was  first  reprinted,  with  an 
introduction  and  notes,  by  Karl  Elze,  Leipzig,  1867.  Elze  took  very  con 
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  E. 

Alphonsus  next  appeared  in  The  Comedies  and  Tragedies  of  George  Chapman, 
London,  1873.  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  Works  of  George  Chapman  —  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  puzzling  feature  of  the  text  of  Alphonsus  consists  in  the  German 
speeches.  These  seem  to  have  been  originally  composed  in  a  fairly  correct 
High  German,  except  the  speeches  of  the  '  Boors  ',  for  which  see  the  Intro 
duction,  p.  69  1,  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  Elze'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  original  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  restoration 
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    PERSONS 

This  list  appears  in  Q.,  where  Lorenzo  appears  as  Lorenzo  de  Cipres  ;  E. 
emends  de  Cyprus.  In  I,  ii,  240,  the  same  character  is  spoken  of  as  Lorenzo 
de  Toledo.  His  son  is  introduced  in  the  stage  direction  preceding  Act  I  as 
Alexander  de  Tripes,  an  evident  misprint  for  Cipres  which  E.  has  corrected. 
Alexander  again  appears  in  the  stage  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.  Exit  Alexder.  In   the   stage   direction   after 

03.  y.     unlook  d.       E.    unlooked,  this  line  E.  omits  the  word  aloft. 
which  may  represent   the  pro-          60-2.    Q.     prints    as     two     lines, 


IM  LhaVC  l\aSed,,thu  P^5611*  text  uP°n  this  edition,  consulting  the  copies  at  the  Bodleian 
(Malone,  241)  and  the  Bntish  Museum  (C.  12.  g.  6  and  644.  d.  50),  modernizing  the  spelling 
andPUDTct,uatlon  aSliSUaL  Lowndes'  Ma™al,  vol.  i,  p.  4",  notes  a  copy  of  thilplay,  datin| 
1648.  I  have  found  no  trace  of  this  and  fancy  it  must  be  a  misprint.  Throughout  these 
notes  I  have  used  Clarendon  type  Jo  represent  the  black-Jet$er  of  the  original, 


NOTES 


705 


ending  ordinary,  written.  E. 
alters  What's  this  to  What  is 
this,  It  seems  to  't  seems,  and 
prints  as  three  lines  ending 
Tush,  is,  written.  I  print  as 
three  lines,  but  reject  E.'s  ar 
rangement  and  his  alterations  of 
the  text. 

In  the  stage  direction  after 
1.  62  E.  prints  Lorenzo's  for  Q. 
his. 

68.  Q.   Una  arbusta  non  alit  duos 
Erithicos.     E.     emends      Unum 
arbustum  ;  but  the  form  arbusta 
occurs   in   mediaeval   Latin,   see 
Thes.  Ling.  Lat.   E.  also  emends 
erithacos,   noting  that   Q.   reads 
Erithicus  ;   but  the  copies  at  the 
Bodleian  and  the  British  Museum 
have  Erithicos. 

69.  The    Bodleian    copy    has    the 
misprint    own    for    down.    The 
British  Museum  copies  are  cor 
rect. 

76-6.  Q.  prints  as  prose. 

115.  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. 

127-34.  By  a  palpable  mistake 
Q.  assigns  this  speech  to  Al- 
phon  [sus].  E.  emends,  giving  it 
to  Lorenzo.  In  1.  127  Q.  has 
Bohemie.  The  pronunciation 
was  probably  dissyllabic,  Bemya, 
cf.  the  German,  Bohmen. 

147.  Q-  ten  tun.  E.  emends  ten 
tons.  I  print  ton,  but  perhaps 
tun  should  be  retained,  as  the 
reference  is  probably  to  measure 
rather  than  to  weight. 

154-6.  Q.  prints  as  two  lines,  ending 
election,  next.  E.  corrects.  Inl. 
154  Q.  reads  victorious,  which 
E.  retains.  But  the  epithet  ap- 

;  plied  to  Mentz,  whose  defeat  and 
captivity  have  just  been  men 
tioned,  is  manifestly  absurd.  I 
suggest  vainglorious. 

171.  Q.  set  down.  S.  has  sit  fol 
lowing  an  original  misprint  of 
E.  corrected  in  later  impres 
sions. 

182.  Q.  twenty  days.  E.  twenty 
hours,  identifying  the  poison 
with  that  mentioned  in  III,  i, 
358.  But  discrepancies  of  this 
kind  should  not  be  removed 
from  the  text  by  an  editor. 

C.D.W. 


184.  Q.  This  an  infection.  S. 
This  ?  an  infection,  following  an 
unnecessary  emendation  by  E. 
rejected  in  later  impressions. 

190.  Q.  For  stirring,  E.  retains,  but 
suggests  From  stirring.     This  is 
unnecessary.     I    have    inserted 
the    stage    direction    after    this 
line. 

202.  Q.     renting;      perhaps     this 
variant  of  rending  should  be  re 
tained. 

203.  Q.  To  put  them  out  of  doubt  I 
study  sure.     E.   alters  I  to  /'// 
and  puts  a  semi-colon  after  sure, 
instead  of  the  comma  as  in  Q. 
These  changes  show,  I  think,  a 
complete  misconception   of  the 
passage.     See  note,  p.  695,  and 
my  comment  on  Elze's  change 
in  the  article  mAnglia,  vol.  xxx. 

208.  E.  inserts  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line. 

214.  I   follow   E.   in   beginning   a 

new  scene  after  this  line. 
I,    ii,   29.     Q.    Chancclor    of   Gallia. 

37.  Q.  Chancelour  of  Italie.  E. 
reads  in  1.  29  Chancellor  of  Italy  : 
in  1.  37  Chancellor  of  Gallia. 
But  such  mistakes  (see  note, 
p.  695)  should  only  be  pointed  out 
by  an  editor,  not  removed  from 
the  text. 

48.  Q.  Empress.     E.  emperess. 

88.  Q-  /  think  he  never  said  pray'r. 
E.  /  think,  he  ne'er  said  prayers. 

155.  Q.  your  Sister.  E.  your 
daughter.  E.'s  emendation  is, 
no  doubt,  correct,  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. 

160.  Q.  And  Daughters  Kings.  E. 
changes  And  to  His. 

176.  E.  inserts  the  stage  direction 
in  this  line. 

191.  In    the    stage    direction    E. 
alters  Pals  [grave]  to  Palatine. 

212.  Q.  their  resolutions.  E.  his 
resolutions ;  but  the  reference 
is  to  both  the  competitors. 

225.  Q.  the  Winds.  E.  the  minds. 
E.'s  emendation  must  be  ac 
cepted,  as  the  context  will 
hardly  allow  a  figurative  use  of 
winds  for  passions. 

235.  Q.  for  age  and  age.  E.  for 
aye  and  aye. 

261.  Q-  wehrsafflig.  E.  wehrhafftig. 
ZZ 


706       ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 


II,  i,  50.     I  insert  Exeunt  omnes  here 
in   accordance   with  1.  49,  let  us 
leave    this]  place,    and    with  E. 
begin  a  new  scene. 
II,  ii,  16.     E.  adds  the  stage  direction 
after  this  line.     I   have   added 
similar  directions  in  11.  20,  23, 
26,    36,    42,    46,    47,    and    71. 
After  1.  72  for  Q.  She  opens,  etc. 
I  read  Hedwig  draws,  opens,  etc. 
77.  I  have  added  the  stage  direc 
tion. 
89-90.  Q.  See  dodh,  dass  ist  hier 

kein  gebranch, 
Mein  Got  ist  dass  dir  Englisch 

manier,  dass  dich. 
I  follow  E.'s  emendations. 
94.  Q-  Country  fashion.     E.  coun 
try's  fashion. 
110.  Q.  mock  her  in  her  mirth.     E. 

emends  your  mirth. 
113.  E.  suspects  some  corruption 
in  this  line,  and  the  New  English 
Dictionary  gives  no  meaning  for 
'  leave  '  that  will  fit  this  passage. 
Mr.  Daniel  suggests  bears  it,  i.e. 
carries  it  away ;  cf .  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  II,  iii,  227. 
116-8.  Q.  Gnediges  frawlin. 

Dass  dich,  must  ich  arme 
kindt     zu    schanden    gemacht 

werden. 

E.  emends  muss   and  armes. 
122-4.  Q.  Ey  Lirbes  Jrawlin  mm  es 

all  fur  gutti 
Es  ist  die  Englisch  manier  Und 

gebrauche. 

Ewer  gnaden  weissts  woll  es  ist 
mir  ein  grosse  schande. 
E.   emends  :    liebes,  nempt, — 
which  seems  unnecessary — giitte 
— I  prefer  giite — gebrauch   and 
wissts — I  prefer  weiss  es. 
126-7.  Q.  Gnediges  frawlin  verge- 
bet  mirs,  ich  wills  nimmermehr 
thuen.    E.    emends    mir's    and 
will's. 

128.  Q.  prints  upsy  in  black  letter. 
136.  Q.  vergebet  mirss  ich  wills. 

E.  emends  mir's,  ich  will's. 
138-42.  Q.  For  wahr  kein  schandt. 
Gnediger     hochgeborner     Furst 

undt  herr 

Wan  ich  konte  so  vil  englisch 

sprechen  ich  wolt  ewer  Gnaden. 

Fur  wahr  ein  flltz  geben,  ich 

hoffe  aber  ich  soil  einmahl 
So   viel   lernen   dass   Die   mien 
vestrhen  soil. 

E.    emends    Fiirwahr,    fiirst, 
konte— I  read  konnte— furwahr, 


and  sie  and  verstehen.     I  emend 
further  wenn  for  wan,  and  viel 

for  vil  in  11.  139-40. 

144.   Q.  0  excellent  young  Prince, 
I    take    O    excellent    as    the 
ejaculation,    which    occurs    re 
peatedly  in  this  play,  see  II,  ii, 
309  ;  II,  iii,  66. 

166-7.  Q-  reads  woll  in  both  lines. 
E.  emends  wohl. 

168-70.  Q.  Wass  ihr  durleichtig- 
keit  dass  will  dass  will  mein 
vatter  undt 

Wass  mein  vatter  will  darmit 
muss  ich  zufrieden  sein. 
The  text  is  plainly  corrupt. 
E.  reads  Durchleuchtigkeit,  in 
serts  will  after  this  word,  and 
cancels  the  second  dass  will, 
plainly  a  printer's  repetition.  (I 
have  used  the  modern  form 
Durchlauchtigkeit,  and  altered 
darmit  to  damit. 

179.  Q.  f  evert.  E.  to  avert.  The 
New  English  Dictionary  gives 
'  evert '  in  the  sense  of  '  turn 
aside  '. 

183.  Q.  This  day  this  breath  of  life. 
E.  his  breath.  Mr.  Daniel  sug 
gests  the  breath.  Neither  change 
seems  necessary  as  this  breath 
of  life  means  '  this  vital  air '. 

193.  Q.  his  lives  reproach.  E. 
reads  his  life's  reproach,  but 
suggests  the  reading  '  his  life 
reproach  '  (probably  a  misprint 
for  '  reproached  '),  citing  Meas 
ure  for  Measure,  V,  i,  425-6. 

212.  E.  wrongly,  I  think,  omits 
the  question  mark  at  the  end  of 
this  line. 

231.  Q.  selected.     E.  elected. 

241.  Q.  With  pierc'd.  E.  corrects 
Which  pierc'd.  Cf.  Byron's  Tra 
gedy,  IV,  ii,  256. 

252.  Q.  What?  what  the  Empress 
accessary  to?  E.  alters  to  What? 
was  the  empress  accessary  to't  ? 
The  only  change  necessary  is 
the  shifting  of  the  first  question 
mark  and  the  modernization  of 
to  to  too  as  in  the  text. 

257.    -Q.  That  9.  the  greatest. 
E.  That  the  nine  greatest. 

273.  Q.  And  in  my  heart.  E.  That 
in  my  heart.  A  better  sugges 
tion  is  Mr.  Daniel's  As  in  my 
heart  ;  but  I  doubt  if  any  change 
is  needed. 

317.  Q.  it  is  enough.    E. 'tis  enough. 
321.  Q.   Dutch  bowrs  as  towsandt 


NOTES 


707 


schelms  and  gold  to  tempt  them. 
E.  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. 

324.  Q.  by  your  Highness.  This 
may  be  a  Germanism.  Mr. 
Daniel,  however,  suggests  that 
by  has  been  caught  from  the 
next  line,  and  that  we  should 
read  in  or  with. 

330.  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. 

335.  Q.  Such  credulous  young  no 
vices  to  their  death?  E.  omits 
their.  As  often  the  question  mark 
denotes  an  exclamation. 

345.  I    follow    E.    in    marking    a 

new  scene  after  this  line. 
II,  iii,  6.     Q.  pastimes.     E.  pastime. 

28.  After  this  line  Q.  has  a  stage 
direction,  Enter  two  Bowrs.  This 
is  an  anticipation  of  the  proper 
entrance  after  1.  32,  and  I  have 
therefore  cancelled  it. 

33-6.  Q.  Eom  hier  bans  wore  bist 
dow,  warumb  bist  dow  so 
trawrick  P  biss  frolick  kan  wel 
gelt  verdienen,  wir  wil  ihn  bey 
potts  tawsandt  todt  schlagen. 
Lat  mich  die  brieffe  sehen. 

E.  emends  wor  for  wore, 
kanst  for  kan,  and  vel  [i.e. 
viel]  for  wel. 

39.  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  Jerick  reads,  I  take  it 
that  he  should  do  so  here. 

39-41.  Q.  Hans  und  Jerick,  mein 
liebe  rreinde,  ich  bitte  lasset  es 
bey  euch  bleiben  in  geheim,  und 
schlaget  den  Engellander  zu 
todt. 

E.  emends  meine,  freunde,  and 
Engellander. 

42.  Q.  friend.     E.  emends  friends. 

44-5.  Q.  Hear  weiter,  den  er  1st 
kein  bowre  nicht,  er  ist  ein 
Juncker,  und  hatt  viel  gelt  und 
kleinothen  bey  sich. 

E.  retains  Hear — it  should, 
I  think,  be  H6r' — and  alters  den 
to  denn,  gelt  to  golt — I  prefer 
gelt,  i.e.  money — and  reads 


kleinoten,  where  I  would  prefer 
kleinodien,  i.e.  jewels. 

48.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction  after  weiter. 

48-50.  Q.  ihr  solt  solclie  gelegen- 
heit  nicht  versahmen,  und  wan 
ihr  gethan  liabet,  ich  will  euch 
sagen,  was  ich  fur  ein  guter 
Earl  bin,  der  euch  rant  gegeben 
babe. 

E.  alters  versahmen  to  ver- 
saumen — I  prefer  versaumen — 
inr  to  ihrs  [i.e.  'ihr  es  '] 
— which  seems  unnecessary — • 
and  reads  will  ich  for  ich  will, 
kerl  for  karl,  and  rath  for  rant. 

53-100.  In  this  long  passage  of 
German,  I  cite  the  original  only 
where  it  differs  from  E.'s  text  or 
mine,  disregarding  mere  varia 
tions  of  spelling. 

54.  Q.  nich  fur.    E.  nicht  fur. 
Q.  see.    E.  sieh. 

55.  Q.  and  E.  dar.     I  prefer  dor. 

56.  Q.    slapperment.    E.    sapper- 
ment. 

57.  Q.  guter.    E.  guten. 

58.  Q.   divell.     E.   diivel,   a    Low 
German  form. 

60.  Q.  hoffertick.     E.  retains  this, 
but  I  prefer  hoff  artig. 

61.  Q.  selleuch.     E.  soil  euch. 

62.  Q.  bried.    E.  berurt. 

63.  Q.   verrahters.     E.   verrahter. 
I  prefer  verrather. 

64.  Q.  and  E.  Sla    to.     I    prefer 
the  Low  German  form  tau.     So 
also  in  1.  80. 

67.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 

68.  Q.  dor.  E.   dar.    I  follow  Q. 

69.  Q.     and    E.    darto.     I    read 
dortau. 

70.  Q.  geue.    E.  gebe.    I  read  gev. 
75.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 
78.  Q.  Wiltud.    E.  Wiltu. 
80-1-3.    Q.  and  E.  dar.     I  read 

dor. 

81-2.  I  insert  the  stage  directions. 

83.  Q.  alle  mit.    E.    alles    mit. 

86-7.  Q.   prints    as  prose,    E.  in 
serts  quidem  after  Hercules. 

88.  Q.  kehre.  E.  wehre,  probably 
influenced  by  wehren,  1.  91,  but 
the  change  does  not  seem  neces 
sary. 

90-1.  Q.  labendig.  E.  lebendig. 
Q.  mus  ich  meren.  E.  muss 
ich  mich  wehren. 

92-3.  I  insert  the  stage  directions. 

93.  Q.  karle.    E.  kerl. 
Q.  fight.    E.  ficht. 


708         ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 


97.  Q.  and  E.  dar.     I  read  dor. 

99.  Q.  wet.    E.  weet.     I  read  weit. 

100.  Q.  dor.    E.  dar. 

Q.  still  ich  sag.    E.  still  sag  ich. 
104.  Q.  sterb.     E.  stirb. 
106.  Q.  Fy  dich  an.     E.  Pfui  dich 

an. 
Q.  dein.     E.  deinen.     I  have 

left    the   bad    grammar    of   the 

original  unimproved. 

108.  Q.  Last  us.    E.  Lasst  uns. 

109.  Q.  schelme.    E.  schelm. 

113.  Q.    bistum    more.     E.     bistu 
more. 

114.  Q.  That  thou  art  so  much  we 
are  witnesses. 

E.  For  that  thou  art  so  much  we're 
witnesses. 

154.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 

156.  Q.  has  only  Exeunt.     I  add 

the  rest  of  the  stage  direction. 
Ill,  i,  10.     Q.  neither  end.    E.  nether 
end. 

17.  Q.  Exit.  I  read  Exiturus, 
since  Alexander  does  not  leave 
the  stage  till  1.  21. 

29.  Q.  S chink  bowls  of  Reinfal. 
E.  puts  a  comma  after  Schink ; 
I  take  it  to  be  a  form  of  Schen- 
ken,  to  pour  out.  In  my  study 
of  the  text  of  this  play  in  Anglia, 
vol.  xxx,  p.  364,  I  suggested  the 
reading  Rheinpfalz,  but  now 
prefer  to  retain  the  old  text. 

46.  Q.  es  gelt.  E.  's  gelt.  I  read 
es  gilt. 

48.  Q.  Sain  Got  es  soil  mir  en 
liebe  drunk  sein. 

E.  emends  Sam,  ein,  lieber, 
and  trunck.  I  am  not  sure  that 
one  should  emend  the  grammar 
of  the  Prince's  German  ;  he  may 
have  been  meant  to  speak  in 
correctly.  I  have  therefore  al 
lowed  liebe  to  stand. 

52.  Q.  Trowl  out.  E.  Drawl  out. 
This  change  is  for  the  worse  ; 
trowl  is  a  mere  variant  of  '  troll '. 

54.  Q.  Sain.    E.  Sam. 

55.  Q.  spoken.     E.  spoke. 

67.  Q.  fallace.  E.  fallacy.  But 
fallace  occurs  in  Caxton  and 
Hakluyt ;  see  New  English 
Dictionary. 

81.  Q.  dis  nicht  ben  mee  schlapen. 
E.  dis  nacht  bey  me  schlapen. 

83.  Q.  mist,  begeran.  E.  nicht 
begeren.  I  read  begehren. 

92.  Q.  unto.    E.  to. 

100.  Q.  We  drink.  E.  emends 
We'll  drink. 


101.  Q.  say.     E.  says. 

112.  Q.  A  hipse  bowr  maikins. 

E.  And  hupsch  bowr-maikins, 
I  read  boor  for  bowr. 

117.  E.  inserts  the  stage  direction. 

125.  Q.  A  way  Marshal  bring  them. 
~E.away,and  bring  them,marshal ! 

129.  Q.  an  edge.  E.  on  edge.  See 
note,  p.  699. 

132.  Q.  holds.    E.  hold. 

141.  Q.  schinkel.     E.  schinken. 

146.  Q.  spell,  daunseu. 

E.  spiel,  dantzen,  i.e.  tan- 
zen.  E.  says  that  Q.  reads 
daunteu ;  but  the  copies  in  the 
Bodleian  and  the  Brit.  Mus.  read 
daunseu. 

158.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 

161.  Q.  skelt  bowre.    E.  'S  gelt, 
bowr.     I  read  'S  gilt,  bauer. 

162.  Q.  Sain.     E.  Sam. 

Q.  helpe  mich  doch  ein  Jung- 
fraw  drunck. 

E.  emends  help  mich  doch  ! 
Ey  jungfraw,  drinck  ! 

163.  Q.  Es  gelt  guter  fcenudt    ein 
frolocken  drink. 

E.  reads  freundt,  frohlichen 
and  trunck.  I  read  gilt  for  gelt. 

164.  Q.  Sam,  [not  Sain,  as  in  P.] 
and  frundt. 

175.  Q.  does  not  give  the  name  of 
the  speaker.  E.  rightly  assigns 
it  to  Palat.,  i.e.  the  Palsgrave. 
Q.  Whas  ist  whas  ist  wat  will 
you  nut  [not  mit  as  in  P.]  mee 
machen.  E.  reads  Was  .  .  . 
was  .  .  .  what — I  prefer  wat— 
and  mit. 

177.  Q.  geb  .  .  .  gein  drink.  E. 
reads  gebt,  gern  trincken. 

179.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 

180.  Q.  Saxon  and  Palsgrave,  this, 
etc.     I  take  the  first  words  as 
an   ejaculation,    and   punctuate 
accordingly. 

183.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 
188-9.  Q.   ends   these   lines   with 

yourself    and  well    respectively. 

E.  prints  as  three  lines,  ending 

yourself,     methinks,     well.    The 

rhyme  shows  that  a  couplet  is 

required. 
198.  Q.    schuce.     E.    juice ;     but 

it    is    plainly    a    misprint    for 

'  scuse  ',  i.e.  excuse. 
203.  E.  inserts  not  after  is. 
224.  Q.  Bride-Chamber.     E.  bridal 

chamber. 
246.  Q.     Princess.       E.     emends 

princes.     For    all   at   once    Mr. 


NOTES 


709 


Daniel  suggests  all  and  one,  but 
no  change  seems  necessary. 
248.  I    have    inserted    the    stage 
direction,      Alexander     conceals 
himself,  etc. 

288.  E.   inserts  then  before  your. 
After  this  line  E.  begins  a  new 
scene.     There  is  no   change   of 
place,  however,  and  I  think  the 
action  is  continuous. 

289.  Before  this  line  Q.  has  Enter 
Alphonsus,  to  which  E.  adds  and 
after  him  Alexander.     But   this 
does  not  clear  up  the  difficulty. 
If  11.  289-90  are  spoken  by  Al 
phonsus,  as  in  Q.,  it  is  he  who 
has  overheard  the  '  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 
plain,  therefore,  that  it  is  Alexan 
der  who  has  played  the  eaves 
dropper,   and   I   have  therefore 
inserted  a  stage  direction  to  this 
effect  after  1.   248.     The  direc 
tion  in  the  Q.,  Enter  Alphonsus, 
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  original  was   confused   and 
contradictory. 

297-8.  Q.  prints  Intends  .  .  .TJ 
chambers  as  one  line. 

369.  Q.  He  hath.     E.  He's. 

378.  The  line  is  imperfect  ;  per 
haps  me  has  been  lost  at  the  end. 

893.  Q.  JEgestus.     E.  JEgisthus. 

403.  Q.  your  friends.  E.  you 
friends. 

408.  The  stage  direction  was 
added  by  E.  Mr.  Daniel  suggests 
that  Thus  and  thus,  1.  408,  imply 
blows. 

413.  The  line  is  imperfect ;  per 
haps  a  dissyllable,  like  '  guilt 
less  ',  has  been  lost  before  head. 

416.  I    have    inserted    the    stage 

direction. 

IV,    i,    19.    Q.    Crossier    Staff.    E. 
crozier's  staff. 

75.  I  have  inserted  the  word  below 
in  the  stage  direction. 


89.  Q.  Sast  dorh  licbes  doister  who 
wart  dow  dicselbirmafl. 

E.  Sag  doch,  liebe  dochter,  wo 
wart  dow  dieselbe  nacht  P 
I  print  tochter,  warst,  and  da. 

90.  Q.  Als  who  who  solt  ich  sem. 
E.  emends  wo,  wo,  and  sein  P 

91.  Q.    Wert  dow  allrin . . .  wart  dow 

.  .  .  vorschrocken. 
E.  Wart  dow  allein  . . .  wart  dow 

.  .  .  verschrocken. 

I  prefer  Warst  du  in  both  cases. 
92-4.  Q.  Ich  ha  mist  audes  ge- 
meint  dam  das  ich  wolt  allrin 
gesiflaffne  haben,  abur  umb 
mitternaist  kam  mriner  bride 
groom  bundt  sislaffet  .  .  .  ge- 
tnnnuel. 

E.  emends  hab  nicht  anders, 
dann,  allein,  geschlafen,  aber, 
mitternacht,  meiner,  undt  schla- 
ffet,  getummel. 

I  follow  E.  except  for  some 
slight  variations  in  spelling. 

112.  Q.   satt  mist  be  dir  schlafin. 
E.  emends  hatt  nicht  bei  .  .  . 
geschlafen. 

113.  Q.  Es  gefelt  .  .  .  zum  sagun 
.  .  .  habes  woll  gerfralet. 

E.  emends  gefellt,  zu  sagen, 
bab  es  wol  gef iilet. 
I  print  gefallt,  wohl  gefiihlet. 

118.  Q.  Lab   ich   bin   you  geshla- 
pen.  E.  emends  Hab  and  bey 

119.  Q.    I   left,    warum   snlt   ihrs 
fragen.     E.     emends     Ey    lef, 
solt,  fragen  P 

I  print  Ei  lief,  and  ihr's. 
124.  Q.   Das   haste   gethan   order 

holle  mich  der  divell. 

E.     emends  oder  hole,  diivel. 
I  print  hastu  =  hast  du. 
138.  E.  adds  the  stage  direction. 
165.  Q.  No  Saxon  know,    etc.   E. 

reads  No,  Saxon,  no,  etc.     I  see 

no  reason  for  this  change. 
178.  I  have  added  Saxon  and  the 

others     [i.e.     all    but     Richard, 

Collen,  and   their   men]  to   the 

stage  direction. 
194.  Q.  remedie.     P.  misprints  te- 

medie. 
217.  After  this  line  E.   marks  a 

new  scene. 
IV,  ii.  In  the  stage  direction  at  the 

beginning  of  the  scene  Q.  reads 

the  Couch.     E.  alters  a  Couch. 
32.  Q.  thj  unpartial  fates  afflict.     E. 

alters  the  impartial  fates  inflict. 

For  this  use  of  afflict  cf.  V,  i,  187. 
38.  Q.  he  points.    E.  Death  points. 


710        ALPHONSUS  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY 


58.  I  mark  this  line  as  an  aside. 
S.  alters  the  Q.  knew,  retained 
by  E.,  to  know ;  but  knew  is 
the  subjunctive  in  a  condition 
contrary  to  fact ;  see  Abbott, 
Shakespearian  Grammar,  §  361. 

68.  Q.  pains.  E.  pain,  to  agree 
with  1.  77  below,  but  the  change 
is  unnecessary. 

82-4.  Q.  Live  long  in  happiness  to 
revenge  my  death, 
Upon  my  Wife  and  all  the  English 

brood. 

My  Lord  of  Saxonie  your  Grace 
hath  cause. 

E.  alters  to  read  happiness  ! 
To  revenge  .  .  .  brood,  .  •  . 
cause.  This  seems  to  me  an 
unwarranted  interference  with 
the  text.  All  that  is  needed  is 
a  dash  after  cause  to  show  that 
the  speech  is  broken  off  here. 
Probably  Alphonsus  pretends  to 
swoon. 

89.  After  this  line  E.  inserts  the 
stage  direction  stabs  him.  I 
place  this  after  1.  90,  and  insert 
drawing  here. 

93.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 

94.  Q.  so  gazing.     E.  gazing  so. 
118.  E.  adds  bearing  off  Mentz  to 

the  stage  direction. 

143.  After  this  line  E.  marks  a 
new  scene.  An  interval  of  forty 
weeks,  11.  9-10,  has  elapsed,  so 
that  logically  scene  iii  should  go 
with  the  fifth  act. 
V,  iii,  9-12.  Q.  deere  vatter  .  .  . 
dis  .  .  .  30.  weeken  .  .  .  dune- 
ket  .  .  .  40.  jahr  .  .  .  ein  litte 
.  .  .  me  verstohn.  E.  emends 
dear,  dise  [i.e.  diese]  viertzig 
weeken  (suggested  by  the  40 
jahr  of  1.  10),  dunket,  liitt,  and 
mien  verstonn.  I  read  dis  (for 
this),  diinket,  and  me  verstahn  (for 
verstehen).  The  English  words 
which  close  the  speech  are 
printed  in  Q.  ia  black  letter. 
The  mixture  of  English  and 
German  in  Hedewick's  speeches 
in  this  scene  is  probably  inten 
tional.  I  retain  the  German 
form  liitte,  Q.  litte,  before  pity, 
where  E.  reads  little. 

30.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction. 

38.  Q.  allyed.     P.  misprints  a  lyed. 

70-5.  Q.  Ah  myne  seete  .  .  . 
allerleivest  ...  I  preedee  mein 
leefe  .  .  .  friendlich  one,  good 


seete  harte  tell  de  trnt  ...  at 
lest  .  .  .  dyne  allerleefest  schild 
.  .  .  dan  ich  .  .  .  dyne  .  .  . 
myne  .  •  •  seete  .  .  .  erbarmet. 
E.  emends  Ach  mein  siisse, 
allerlievest,  pr'ythee  [sic],  leve, 
freindlich  an,  sweetheart,  tell  the 
truth,  least,  dein  allerlievest 
child,  dein,  mein,  siisse  and  er- 
barme.  I  have  kept  somewhat 
closer  to  the  original,  which 
occasionally  seems  aiming  to 
represent  a  German  pronuncia 
tion  of  English,  as  in  preedee, 
trut'  and  schild.  I  also  read 
denn  ich  for  dan  ich,  and  retain 
the  Q.  erbarmet. 

77-8.  Q.  doe  yow  excellencie  .  .  . 
seete  Edouart  yow  weete.  (P. 
misprints  leete  and  sweete.)  E. 
emends  does  your  excellency  .  .  . 
Siisse  Eduart,  yow  weet.  I  print 
do  your,1  Lieve  Eduart,  and  weit 
(for  weisst). 

82-4.  Q.  hieborne  .  .  .  dinck  .  .  . 
sitts  .  .  .  dat  hart  .  .  .  woll 
recken.  E.  emends  high  born, 
denck,  sitzt,  the  hart,  wol  rechen. 
The  speech  is  a  hopeless  con 
fusion  of  German  and  English. 
I  print  denk,  sits,  dat  heart 
wohl  rachen. 

91.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 

94-6.  Q.  0  myne  Vatter  .  .  .  myne 
kindt  .  .  .  spreak  .  .  .  diekindt 
...  it  soil. 

E.  emends  mein  Vatter,  mein 
Kindt,  speak,  dies  Kindt,  es  soil. 
I  print  de  (for  the)  Kind,  it 
soil. 

117.  E.    inserts    this    between    is 
and  thine. 

118.  Q.    geve  ...  die    kind    ist. 
E.  emends  gebe,  das  Kindt.     I 
print  de  Kind,  as  in  1.  95. 

121.  Q.  in  seinem  trone.  E.  al 
ters  to  in  deinem.  This  seems 
unnecessary. 

132.  Q.  /  will.     E.  PH. 

135.  Q.  ist  to  late,  unser  arme 
kindt  ist  kilt. 

E.  emends  is't  too  late,  unser 
armes  Kindt  is  kill'd.  I  retain 
the  German  ist  before  too. 

138-41.  Q.  ich  mark  ...  ich 
sholdt  .  .  .  meine  knee,  last 
.  .  .  i'alce  .  .  .  begehrs. 

E.  reads  I  mark,  ich  should, 
meine  knie,  false.  I  print  ich 

1  I   have  been  misled  by  P.'s  misprint 
leete,    The  true  reading  is  Susse. 


NOTES 


711 


mark,   ich  should,  meine  knee, 
lass,  and  begehr's. 

147.  Q.  in  deiner  henden. 

E.  emends  in  deine  hende. 

148.  E.  adds  the  stage  direction. 
149-50.  Q.  Sabote  .  .  .  mocht.  £. 

emends  Sabaot,  mocht  ! 

160.  Q.  newly  born.     E.  new-born. 

175.  Q.  the  Father  and  the  Grand 
sires  heart.  E.  the  father's,  etc. 

181.  To  the  stage  direction  of  Q., 
Exeunt,  E.  adds  bearing  off 
the  dead  bodies. 

V,  i,  8.     Q.  Sun  set.    E.  sunset.     I 
take  set  to  be  a  verb. 

10.  Q.  spoken.     E.  spoke. 

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  '. 

34,  40,  44.  I  add  the  stage  direc 
tions. 

55.  Q.  Viz.     E.  Videlicet. 

107.  Q.  Or  wherefore.  E.  O  where 
fore.  This  seems  uncalled  for. 

120.  Q.Sh'hath.  E.  She's.  I  keep 
the  old  grammatical  form,  read 
ing  Sh'ath. 

132.  I  add  the  stage  direction. 

146.  Q.  curst  heart.  E.  curs'd 
heart.  I  prefer  the  original  form 
with  its  implication, '  shrewish  '. 

156.  Here  and  in  1.  415  below  Q. 
has  Alphonso.  E.  alters  to  Al 
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 
Afflicting  in  the  sense  of  '  in 
flicting  '.  Cf.  IV,  ii,  32. 

228-9.  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. 

255.  E.  suggests  reading  Not  that 
I  do  believe  it  steadfastly.  S.  in 


serts  now  after  7,  and  Mr.  Daniel 
suggests  not  after  do.  I  follow 
Q.,  which  seems  to  be"  quite  in 
telligible.  The  first  foot  shows 
syncopation. 

267.  I  add  the  stage  direction. 

268.  Q.  Empress.     E.  emperess. 
282.  Q.  Saxon  triumphs  over.     E. 

And  Saxon  triumphs  o'er.  This 
change  obliterates  the  old  ac 
centuation,  triumphs. 
314.  Q.  spit  in's  face.  E.  spit 
him  in  his  face.  This  does  not 
seem  idiomatic  English. 

316.  E.  believes  this  verse  should 
be   assigned    to   Edward.    This 
is    possible ;     but    I    prefer    to 
follow  Q. 

317.  S.  puts  a  dash  at  the  close 
of  this  line.    This  seems  an  im 
provement  on  the  period  of  Q. 

324.  E.  adds  the  stage  direction 
Stabs  him.  1  prefer  Kills  him, 
as  Alphonsus  never  never  speaks 
again. 

330.  Q.  You  have,  etc.  Mr.  Daniel 
suggests  Who  have,  etc.,  but  no 
change  seems  needed. 

342.  Q.  Alexander  hath  slain.  E. 
Alexander's  slain. 

347.  E.  adds  the  direction  Exit 
Brandenburg. 

396.  Q.  And  if.    E.  An'  if. 

401.  E.  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. 

438.  Q.  Hang.  S.  Hung.  I  pre 
fer  to  retain  the  old  form. 

456.  Q.  the  deceit  .  .  .  over.  E. 
my  deceit  .  .  .  o'er. 

481.  E.  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,  entered  in  the  Stationers'  Registers  seven 
teen  plays  which  had  come  into  his  hands.  Among  these  was  '  The 
Paraside  or  Revenge  for  Honor  by  Henry  Glapthorne '.  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  Mr. 
Fleay1  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  plays  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  first,  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.  Stoll a  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  technic,  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  Glapthorne.  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 

1  Biog.  Chron.,  vol.  ii,  p.  326.  Herbert's  licence  is  reproduced  by  Fleay, 
London  Stage,  p.  304.  [Nothing  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,  n.). 

8  John  Webster,  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  Byron  for  the  new-fangled  airs  of  the  Jacobean  court-poets '. 
But  Dr.  Stoll  accepts  without  investigation  Marriott's  ascription  of  the  play 
to  Chapman.  See  also  Stoll's  later  utterance '  in  Modern  Language  Notes 
vol.  xx,  p.  208. 


7i4  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

ascribing  the  "alteration  to  further  information  and  honesty  of  purpose 
on  Marriott's  part.  But  as  it  is,  I  do  not  see  how  we  can  believe  other 
wise  than  that  he,  like  Moseley  1  in  the  case  of  Alphonsus,  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,2  came  to  the  conclu 
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  Glapthorne,  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.,vo\.  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.'  Koeppel,  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.3  Boas,  Bussy 
D'Ambois,  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  4  of  phrase  and  thought. 
Schelling,  Elizabethan  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  Modern 
Philology,  April,  1908,  and  to  this  I  refer  the  student  for  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  Bussy  in  1641,  1646,  and  1657,  by  the  re-issue  of  Ccesar 
and  Pompey  in  1653,  by  the  '  continuous  popularity  '  of  his  Homeric  trans 
lations  (see  Dryden,  Dedication  of  Examen  Poeticum  as  to  the  'incredible 
pleasure  and  extreme  transport '  with  which  Waller  and  the  Earl  of  Mulgrave 
read  these  works),  and  by  Moseley's  ascription  to  him  of  Alphonsus  in  1654- 

2  George  Chapman,  pp.  123-7. 

a  See  also  Koeppel's  later  utterance  repelling  the  criticism  of  Dr.  Stoll, 
Beiblatt  zur  Anglia,  vol.  xviii,  p.  18. 

*u*  i1  h^V-e  been  able  to  discover  very  few  of  these,  none  that  seem  to  me  in 
the  least  indicative  of  Chapman's  authorship. 


INTRODUCTION  715 

In  the  first  place,  the  choice  of  subject  and  method  of  treatment 
are  wholly  different  from  Chapman's  genuine  work.  Professor  Schick  l 
has  pointed  out  that  Revenge  for  Honour  is  in  part  at  least  derived  from 
Knolles'  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  of  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,  Solyman,  who  wishes  to 
secure  the  throne  for  one  of  her  own  sons.  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  stern  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  Knolles 
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  3  with  Revenge  for  Honour.  It  presents  two  brothers,  the  elder 
virtuous,  the  younger  a  villain,  sons  of  an  aged  Oriental  monarch, 

1  Beiblatt  zur  Anglia,  vol.  xviii,  p.  22. 

2  In  the  account  of  Solyman  the  Magnificent,  pp.  757-65  of  the  edition 
of  1621. 

3  These  parallels,  to  some  of  which  Koeppel  had  already  called  attention, 
were  pointed  out  to  me  by  my  colleague  Dr.  Croll,  author  of  the  thesis, 
The  Works  of  Fulke  Greville,  Philadelphia,  1903.      Dr.  Croll  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  until 
i633,*the  author  {of  Revenge  for  Honour — if  this  play  is   to   be  identified 
vnih^The^Parr acide  of  1624 — must  have  read  GreviUe's  work  in  MS. 


716  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

and  tells  of  the  plot  of  the  younger  against  his  father  and  brother, 
of  the  blinding  and  execution  of  the  father  and  brother,  of  the 
amours  of  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  deliberate 
alteration  by  the  later  playwright. 

But  the  tale  of  borrowing  is  not  yet  complete.  Dr.  Stoll  (op.  cit.  p .  2 1 3) 
has  pointed  out  a  number  of  extremely  close  parallels  between  Revenge 
for  Honour  and  the  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  play,  Cupid's  Revenge, 
produced  as  early  as  1612.  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  he  had 
seduced,  and  whose  reputation  he  had  lied  to  preserve.  There  can  be 
little  doubt,  I  think,  that  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  Ccesar  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  out  of 
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 
wholly  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  modern  and  facile  technic  of  Revenge 
for  Honour.  The  author  stands,  not  upon  Seneca,  but  upon  Beaumont 
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  fhe&tre.  Nothing  in  the  work  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher x  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  expression,  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 

1  I  use  this  term  loosely  to  indicate  the  body  of  plays  that  passes  under 
their  names  without  pronouncing  on  the  vext  question  of  the  authorship. 


INTRODUCTION  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  frequency 
of  double  and  triple  endings,1  but  in  the  employment  of  the  genuine 
Fletcherian  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  doth  know,  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 : 
1  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  from  her  contrary  ']  excluded  omens,  presenti 
ments,  and  supernatural  agencies,  foreswore  his  allegiance  to  the  Kyd- 
Seneca  tragedy  .  .  .  reversed  his  whole  looking- forward  method  to 
the  loo  king-backward  method  of  surprise,  constructed  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.  Many 
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  quite  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  Glapthorne. 

1  Elste,  Der  Blankvers  in  den  Dramen  Chapmans,  Halle,  1892,  finds  44 
per  cent,  of  double  endings,  and  4-4  of  triple,  in  the  Revenge,  as  compared 
with  31-2  and  i-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,  respectively. 

1  Cf.  also  II,  i,  287  ;  IV,  i,  46,  60,  136. 


7i8  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

Practically  nothing  is  known  of  the  life  of  Henry  Glapthorne.  The 
biography  prefixed  to  the  collected  edition  l  of  his  works  gives  us  in 
default  of  all  material  information  as  to  his  life  a  series  of  extracts 
from  a  critical  review  of  his  work  and  a  libellous  pamphlet  more 
amusing  than  instructive,  containing  the  charges  brought  against  a 
certain  loose-living  and  hard-swearing  George  Glapthorne  2  by  his 
scandalized  Puritan  neighbours  of  the  Isle  of  Ely  in  1654.  Even  the 
industry  of  Mr.  Bullen  has  been  able  to  discover  nothing  more  definite 
for  the  Dictionary  of  National  Biogr ap hy  than  the  vague '  floreat  1639.' 
Five  plays  of  his,  however,  have  come  down  to  us,  all  printed  in  1639 
or  1640,  and  Mr.  Bullen  3  reprinted  in  1882  a  play,  The  Lady  Mother, 
that  had  remained  in  MS.  until  that  year  Two  other  plays  entered 
in  the  Stationers'  Registers  September  9,  1653,  The  Duchess  of 
Fernandina  and  The  Vestal,  have  been  lost. 

In  addition  to  his  plays  we  have  a  thin  volume  of  poems  published 
in  1639,  and  Whitehall  a  poem,  with  Elegies,  published  in  1642.  This 
latter  volume  was  dedicated  to  Glapthorne's  '  noble  friend  and  gossip, 
Captain  Richard  Lovelace  '.  As  Wit  in  a  Constable  was  dedicated  to 
Strafford,  it  is  easy  to  see  on  what  side  of  the  great  struggle  that  put 
an  end  to  his  play-writing  Glapthorne'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  been  reduced  to 
poverty  and  obscurity  in  the  Commonwealth.4 

The  internal  evidence  which  points  to  Glapthorne's  connexion  with 
Revenge  for  Honour  is  more  convincing  than  the  entry  of  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  Glapthorne  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  they  are 
quoted  from  the  sole  edition  of  Glapthorne  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  parallels  insig 
nificant  in  themselves  become  valuable  when  members  of  a  series.  These 
parallels  are  far  too  close  to  be  the  result  of  mere  accident.  They  either 
imply  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  Glapthorne's  plays, 

.    *  The  Plays  and  Poems  of  Henry  Glapthorne,  London,  1874. 

3  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  imaginary,  picture  of  the  loving  companionship  of  the 
refined  poet  and  his  roistering  brother. 

3  In  Old  English  Plays,  vol.  ii.  It  was  licensed  in  1635,  in  which  year  also 
Glapthorne  wrote  The  Hollander.  This  may  be  taken  as  the  beginning  of 
Glapthorne's  career  as  a  dramatist,  which  ended,  so  far  as  we  can  tell,  in  1639 
or  1640,  just  before  the  closing  of  the  theatres. 

*  Two  at  least  of  .Glapthorne's  plays  were  revived  after  the  Restoration, 


Downes  in  a  list  of  old  plays  revived  between  1663  and  1682  ;  the  second  in  a 
™  °£pla.ys  acted  m  Davenant's  theatre  between  1662  and  1665 ;  see  Genest, 
The  English  Stage,  vol.  i,  pp.  343  and  62.  • 


INTRODUCTION  719 

but  with  all  of  them.  I  have  counted  nine  parallels  more  or  less  close 
with  Wallenstein,  four  with  the  Ladies'  Privilege,  three  each  with  The 
Lady  Mother  and  The  Hollander,  two,  not  very  satisfactory,  with 
Ar gains  and  Parthenia,  one  or  two  with  Wit  in  a  Constable,  and  one 
with  Glapthorne'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 
thorne'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  Glapthorne.  To  do  so  he 
must  have  had  all  Glapthorne'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.  Bullen  remarks  in  his  introduction  to  The  Lady  Mother 
on  '  the  bland  persistence  with  which  certain  passages  are  reproduced 
in  one  play  of  Glapthorne's  after  another  '.  And  there  are  certain 
tags,  '  fillers '  we  might  call  them,  used  to  begin  or  round  off  a  verse 
which  form  part  of  Glapthorne'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  Glapthorne  to 
Revenge  for  Honour  one  simply  carries  out  the  process.  In  fact,  I 
should  be  inclined  to  believe  that  more  parallels  to  Glapthorne'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  found  in  The  Lady  Mother,  which  Bullen 
published  as  Glapthorne's  on  the  strength  of  such  parallels. 

To  Glapthorne's  authorship  of  Revenge  for  Honour  there  are,  however, 
certain  objections.  In  the  first  place,  if  the  play  is  to  be  identified 
with  The  Parracide  of  1624,  Glapthorne  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 
certain. 

Again,  Revenge  for  Honour  differs  in  certain  respects  from  Glap 
thorne'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  ;  Glapthorne  uses '  a  much  smaller 
proportion  of  feminine x  endings  '.  Finally,  Revenge  for  Honour  is 
generally  pronounced  too  good  a  play  for  Glapthorne,  and  there  can 
be  little  doubt  that  in  construction,  sustained  interest,  and  startling 
effects,  it  is  distinctly  superior  to  his  one  tragedy,  Wallenstein,  which 
is  a  curiously  old-fashioned  chronicle  play  to  have  been  written  after 
1634. 

All  these  difficulties  will  disappear,  however,  if  we  think  of  Glap 
thorne,  not  as  the  original  author,  but  as  the  reviser  of  Revenge  for 
Honour.  We  may  then  identify  it  with  The  Parracide,  and  assume  that 
play  to  have  been  written  by  '  an  apt  and  gifted  pupil  of  Fletcher's  ',* 

1  I  am  not  'sure  that  jl  should  lay  much  stress  on  this  point ;  it  'seems 
to  me  not  unlikely  that  Glapthorne'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  Mr.  Thomas  suggests,  who  would  not 
have  been  writing  for  any  other  company  than  the  King's  Men  in  1624,  while 
The  Parracide  was  licensed  for  the  Prince's  Company.  Dr.  Thomas's  attempts 
to  discover  a  possible  author  of  this  play  among  the  writers  for  this  company, 


720  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

and  to  have  been  revised,  either  for  the  stage  or  for  the  press,  by  Glap- 
thorne.  If  Glapthorne  lived  into  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth,  he 
may  well  have  been  reduced  to  such  straits  as  to  have  been  glad  to 
patch  up  an  old  playhouse  MS.  for  publication. 

As  to  the  extent  of  Glapthorne'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  differ  particularly  in  substance  or  form  from  other  scenes  of 
the  play.  I  should  imagine  that  the  revision  was  fairly  thorough  and 
that  Glapthorne's  facile  and  imitative  vein  led  him  to  throw  his  addi 
tions  and  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 
playwright1  of  the  last  days  of  the  decadence  of  the  drama,  our  task  is 
done.  Revenge  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  taken  up 
more  space  than  it  deserves. 

Dekker,  Day,  Sampson,  Ford,  Broome,  and  Middleton,  have  met  with  no 
success. 

1  Mr.  Brereton  (Sydney  University  Library  Publications,  No.  2)  has  advanced 
the  ingenious  theory  that  Revenge  for  Honour  is  an  elaborate  hoax  perpetrated 
by  '  Chapman  and  his  associates  '  on  some  amateur  actor,  '  perhaps  the  stage- 
struck  proprietor  of  a  popular  tavern  '.  I  doubt  whether  Mr.  Brereton  himself 
takes  this  seriously.  The  connexions  existing  between  Revenge  for  Honour 
and  other  Elizabethan  dramas  go  far  to  show,  I  think,  that  the  play  was 
written  in  good  faith  by  its  author,  or  authors,  and,  after  all,  it  is  too 
characteristic  a  specimen  of  late  melodrama  to  be  taken  as  mere  burlesque. 


REVENGE   FOR  HONOUR 

NOTES 

Prologue,  1. 19.     In  another  sphere :  Fleay,  Biog.  Chron.,  vol.  ii,  p.  326,  takes 

this  phrase  to  allude  to  the  change  of  the  Prince's  Company,  for  whom  The 

Parracide  was  licensed,  from  the  Curtain  to  the  Red  Bull  in  August,  1623.   The 

speaker  in  this  case  would  be  referring  to  the  applause  he  had  won  in  the 

former  theatre.     Mr.  Brereton  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,  6-11.  There  are  two  parallels  to  this  reference  to  the  sutler's  wife  m 
Wallenstein,  vol.  ii,  pp.  25,  45. 

I,  i,  10.  The  trailer  of  the  puissant  pike  ;  the  phrase  is  borrowed  from  Shakes 
peare's  TraiVst  thou  the  puissant  pike,  K.H.  V.t  IV,  i,  40.  It  occurs  also 
in  Wit  in  a  Constable,  vol.  i,  p.  232. 

I,  i,  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.  Paul's  while  others  were  at  meals,  was  said  to  '  dine  with  Duke 
Humphrey  '.  This  saying  is  of  frequent  occurrence  in  Elizabethan  litera 
ture.  The  first  recorded  instance  is  in  G.  Harvey's  Four  Letters,  1592. 

I,  i,  25.     Wear  the  buff :    go  naked. 

I,  i,  55.     Dull  as  dormice  :  the  phrase  is  repeated  below,  III,  ii,  8-9. 

I,  i,  65.     Simanthes  is  called  Hermes  on  account  of  his  busy,  intriguing  nature. 

I»  i,  66-7.  The  ovens  in  Egypt :  a  reference  to  the  practice,  dating  back  to 
the  earliest  times,  of  artificial  incubation  in  Egypt. 

I,  i,  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,  i,  112.  Enucleated:  extracted.  This  unusual  word  does  not  occur  in 
Chapman's  plays.  I  have  found  it  in  Glapthorne,  vol.  i,  p.  189. 

I,  i,  120.  Flatus  hypochondriacus :  probably  the  '  hypochondriacal,  or  windy 
melancholy,  proceeding  from  the  head  alone ' ;  cf.  Burton,  Anatomy  of 
Melancholy,  I,  ii,  memb.  I,  51*65.  i. 

I,  i,  123-4.  Averroes,  the  famous  Spanish- Arabian  philosopher  and  physician 
of  the  twelfth  century. 

Avicen,  or  Avicenna,  A.D.  980-1037,  a  corrupt  form  of  Ibn  Sina,  the 
most  celebrated  of  the  Arabian  physicians  and  philosophers. 

A benhuacar ,  Samuel  Ibn  Wakar,  or  Huacar,  physician  to  Alphonso  XI 
of  Castile  in  the  fourteenth  century,  said  to  be  the  author  of  a  tract,  Cas- 
tilian  Medicine. 

Baruch,  possibly  Isaac  ben  Baruch  Albalia,  a  Spanish  Jew  of  the  eleventh 
century,  philosopher  and  astrologer. 

Abolaffi ;  The  old  reading  Aboflii  is  an  evident  mistake  for  Abolaffi, 
itself  a  corruption,  perhaps  under  Italian  influence,  of  the  name  of  a  dis 
tinguished  family  of  Spanish  Jews,  Abulafia,  from  which  the  Italian  name 
Bolaffi  is  derived.  Abraham  ben  Samuel  Abulafia  was  a  famous  cabalist 
C.W.D.  3  A 


722  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

of  the  thirteenth  century  ;  Meir  ben  Todros  ha-Levi  Abulafia  was  a  Talmu- 
dist  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth.  I  doubt  whether  the  dramatist  had 
any  individual  in  mind. 

I,  i,  149-51.  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  Notes,  vol.  xx,  p.  208. 

I,  i,  248.  Its  own  Mars  :  its  own  presiding  deity.  Mars  is  spoken  of  as  the 
Genius,  or  Angel,  of  Abilqualit. 

I,  i,  258.  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  punished 
Parricides  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  Glapthorne  agrees  with  the  text  in  likening  ambition  to  the  viper : 

That  he  should  do  this 

And  like  the  viper's  young,  devour  that  heart 
That  bred  and  nourished  hint. 

Wallenstein,  vol.  ii,  p.  22. 
Cf.  also  below  TV,  i,  212-14. 
I,  i,  290-2.    Cf. 

The  big  wars 
That  make  ambition  virtue. 

Othello,  III,  iii,  349-50. 

I*  i,  350-1.     Cf.  Dulce  bellum  inexpertis,  Erasmus,  Adagia,  p.  232,  ed.  1583. 

I»  i,  353-5.  The  simile  is  from  the  Arcadia  (ed.  1867,  p.  315) :  '  The  very 
cowards  no  sooner  saw  him  but,  as  borrowing  some  of  his  spirit,  they  went 
like  young  eagles  to  the  prey  under  the  wing  of  their  dam '.  It  is,  per 
haps,  worth  noting  that  this  passage  occurs  in  Book  III,  which  contains 
the  story  of  Argalus  and  Parthenia.  Glapthorne  dramatized  this  story  in 
his  play  of  that  name  published  1639.  Cf.  also 

An  eye 

Piercing  as  is  an  eaglet's  when  her  dam, 
Training  her  out  into  the  serene  air, 
Teaches  her  face  the  sunbeames. 

The  Lady  Mother,  p.  109. 

If  i,  377*  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  Glapthorne,  The  Ladies'  Privi- 

t    lege,  voLJii,  pp.  92,  153.^ 

I,  i,  889.     Regardless  :  i.e.  unregarded  ;   I  have  not  noted  the  word  used  in 

this  sense  in  Chapman's  plays. 

l»  i,  404-5.     '  Your  opinion  of  me  is  higher  than  my  gratitude  can  ever  think 

^of  repaying '.  r* 

It  i»  427-8.     '  The  fact  of  my  youth  will  free  me  from  being  suspected  of 

such  a  subtle  device.'     This  use  of  quit,  in  the  sense  of  '  acquit '  or  '  free  ' 

occurs  in  Byron's  Tragedy,  V,  iv,  96,  Chabot,  IV,  i,  261,  and  elsewhere  in 

Chapman. 
n,  i,  31-3.    The  young  of  the  lapwing  run  from  their  nest  on  the  ground 

almost  as  soon  as  they  are  hatched.     There  is  repeated  reference  to  this 

fact  in  Elizabethan  literature  :    see  Hamlet,  V,  ii,  193-4,  and  the  note 

thereon  in  the  New  Variorum. 

II,  i,  94.     Many-headed  beast,  the  people ;   the  phrase  seems  borrowed  from 
Shakespeare's  the  many-headed  multitude,  Coriolanus,  II,  iii,  18. 

Ut  i,  106.  This :  probably  equivalent  to  '  this  is  ',  as  Brereton  suggests  (see 
Text  Notes,  p.  727);  but  perhaps  the  phrase  All  .  .  .  truth  might  be 
taken  m  apposition  with  It,  the  subject  of  confess'd. 

Ut  i,  152.  People,  a  possessive  case  without  the  usual  termination:  see 
Text  Notes,  p.  727. 


NOTES  723 

n,  i,  185.  Impale  your  glorious  brow  :  cf .  '  Impale  the  forehead  of  the  great 
King  Monsieur'1,  Bussy,  III,  ii,  380. 

n,  i,  201-5.  The  idea  expressed  in  these  lines  is  practically  the  same  as  that 
in  The  Revenge  of  Bussy,  IV,  v,  38-43,  but  a  comparison  of  the  phrasing 
and  construction  of  the  two  passages  will  show  how  much  Chapman's 
style  differs  from  that  of  the  author  of  this  play. 

II,  i,  266.  '  Throw  aside  that  quality,  his  love  for  his  children,  which  makes 
him  indeed  pur  father '. 

n,  i,  290-1.  Pliny,'  Natural  History,  xxxvi,  34,  says  of  the  stone  Gagates, 
i.e.  jet,  accenditur  aqua,  oleo  restinguitur.  This  explains  the  somewhat 
confused  text ;  jet  on  fire  is  '  burning  jet '  and  extinguish  is  used  intransi 
tively. 

n,  i,  850-2.   Cf.  2  Tamburlaine,  IV;  i.  65-8. 

II,  ii,  3-7.     With  this  passage  cf. 

The  modest  turtles  which 
In  view  of  other  more  lascivious  birds 
Exchange  their  innocent  loves  in  timorous  sighs, 
Do  when  alone  most  prettily  convert 
Their  chirps  to  billing;  and  with  feather'd  arms 
Encompass  mutually  their  gaudy  necks. 

The  Ladies'  Privilege^  vol.  ii,  p.  99. 
Cf.  also 

Do  I  think 

When  I  behold  the  wanton  sparrows  change 
Their  chirps  to  billing,  they  are  chaste  ? 

The  Lady  Mother,  p.  124. 

n,  ii,  28-9.  Mr.  Crawford  gives  me  a  couple  of  parallels  which  illustrate  this 
passage,  the  first  from  Webster's  Monumental  Column : 

Resembling  trees  the  more  they're  ta'en  with  fruit, 
The  more  they  strive  and  bow  to  kiss  the  ground. 
The  second  from  Massinger : 

/  will  like  a  palm  tree  grow 
Under  my  [own]  huge  weight. 

Believe  as  you  List,  I,  i. 

II,  ii,  82-38.     In  her  union  of  ambition  and  sensual  passion  Caropia,  as  Thomas 

has  shown,  is  clearly  modelled  after  Evadne  in  The  Maid's  Tragedy. 
m,  i,  61-2.    Cf. 

/  will  go  to  death, 

In  full  peace  as  does  an  anchorite  that's  assur'd 
Of  all  his  sins'  forgiveness. 

WalUnstein,  vol.  ii,  p.  6x. 

HI,  i,  82.     Circular  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- 
Ill,  i,  152-6.    The  author  is  fond  of  dwelling  on  the  horror  of  the  supposed 

rape  :   cf.  below,  III,  ii,  126-8,  IV,  i,  11-13,  and  IV,  i,  74-5. 
HI,  i,  184-6.    With  these  lines,  cf. 

Your  entreaties 

Are  cast  on  me  as  fools  throw  oil  on  fire, 
Striving  to  extinguish  it. 

Wallenstein,  voL  ii,  p.  61. 
and 

You  will  rage  more  than  unlimited  fire 
In  populous  cities. 

Ladies'  Privilege,  vol.  ii,  p.  102. 
and 

The  passage  of  unlimited  fire 
In  populous  cities. 

Wallenstein,  voL  ii,  p.  31. 
3B 


724 


REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 


The  original  of  the  phrase  is  probably  Shakespeare  : 

As  when,  by  night  and  negligence,  the  fire 
Is  spied  in  populous  cities. 

Othello,  I,  i,  76-7. 

Ill,  i,  232.     Blood,  i.e.  nearness  of  blood,  kinship. 
Ill,  i,  271.     This  simile  is  a  favourite  with  Massinger  ;    Boyle,  Englische 

Studien,  vol.  ix,  pp.  219-25,  points  out  three  passages  containing  it.     An 

older  instance,  perhaps  the  one  from  which  Massinger  drew  his  phrasing, 

is  in  Chapman's  Gentleman  Usher,  III,  ii,  12-18. 
EQ,  ii,  30.     Bat-fowling :    a  method  of  catching  birds  by  night  by  dazing 

them  with  a  light,  and  then  knocking  them  down.     The  term  is  used 

here  jestingly  to  describe  the  supposed  nocturnal  adventures  of  Abrahen. 

Wagtails  is  a  familiar  or  contemptuous  term,  applied  especially  to  harlots. 

Lethe  uses  it  to  the  country  wench  in  Michaelmas  Term,  III,    i,  211. 
HI,  ii,  63.     Hoodwink  men  like  sullen  hawks :    the  allusion  is  to  the  '  hood  ' 

which  the  trained  hawk  wore  on  coming  abroad  before  she  was  '  un- 

hooded  '  and  flown  at  her  quarry. 

III,  ii,  123.      The  stage  direction  after  this  line  is  the  sole  preparation  we 
have  for  the  surprising  revival  of  Abilqualit  after  his  supposed  death  in 

IV,  i,  'l6-19.    With  these  lines  cf. 

/  will  quite  put  off 

The  name  of  father,  take  as  little  notice 
Thou  art  my  offspring,  as  the  surly  North 
Does  of  the  snow,  which  when  it  has  engendered 
Its  wild  breath  scatters  through  the  earth  forgotten. 

Wallenstein,  vol.  ii,  p.  57. 
IV,i,59.    Cf. 

//  I  were  now  creeping  into  my  marble. 

Wallenstein,  vol.  ii,  p.  79. 

IV,  i,  70-9.     This  passage  seems  a  composite  of  two  passages  in  Glapthorne- 
One  of  these  has  already  been  pointed  out  by  Thomas : 

Suppose 

I  had  with  patience  borne  this  scandalous  name 
Of  a  degenerate  coward,  I  not  only 
Had  nipp'd  the  budding  valour  of  my  youth, 
As  with  a  killing  frost,  but  left  a  shame 
Inherent  to  our  family,  disgraced 

My  noble  father's  memory,  defam'd,  '•    , 

Nay  cowarded  my  ancestors,  whose  dust 
Would  'a  broke  through  the  marbles  to  revenge 
To  me  this  fatal  infamy. 

The  Ladies'  Privilege,  vol.  ii,  p.  141. 

The  other  presents  an  even  closer  likeness.     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  heraldry. 

Wallenstein,  vol.  ii,  p.  58. 

IV,  i,  116.     Precede  his  nature  :  get  the  upper  hand  of  his  natural  love  to  his 

son. 
IV,  i,  125-80.    The  similarity  between  this  passage  and  one  in  The  Maid's 


NOTES  725 

Tragedy,  IV,  ii,  has  been  pointed  out  by  Dr.  Stoll.  In  both  cases  the 
hero  repeatedly  makes  certain  avowals  to  another  character,  which  are  at 
once  reported  to  the  King  and  promptly  denied  by  the  hero.  The  serio 
comic  effect  in  a  tragic  situation  is  the  same  in  both  plays. 
IV,  i,  186.  The  Mutes  have  apparently  completed  half  their  task  of  blinding 
Abilqualit.  At  least  it  appears  so  to  Abrahen,  who  is  ignorant  that  his 
brother  has  arranged  with  the  Mutes  to  go  through  a  mere  form  of  execu 
tion. 

IV,  i,  286-7.  These  lines  present  another  close  parallel  with  Wallenstein. 
There  a  son  says  to  a  father,  who  has  just  commanded  a  deed  which 
involves  the  son's  death  : 

You  arc  such, 

So  merciless  a  tyrant,  as  do  love 
To  feed  on  your  own  bowels. 

Wallenstein,  vol.  ii,  p.  61. 

A  similar  figure  occurs  in  Chapman,  but  in  quite  different  phraseology  : 
What  is  a  father  ?     Turn  his  entrails  gulfs 
To  swallow  children  when  they  have  begot  them? 

The  Gentleman  Usher,  V,  iv,  54-5. 
IV,  i,  246-7.    Another  close  parallel  with  Glapthorne.     Cf. 

With  what  impudence 

Canst  thou  behold  me,  and  a  shivering  cold, 
Strong  as  the  hand  of  winter  casts  on  brooks, 
Not  freeze  thy  spirits  up,  congeal  thy  blood. 

The  Hollander,  vol.  i,  p.  102. 

There  is  a  general  likeness  also  between  this  whole  speech  and  that  of 
Wallenstein  after  the  death  of  his  son,  Wallenstein,  vol.  ii,  p.  63. 
IV,  i,  258.  Weep  till  we  be  statues :  partly  an  allusion  to  Niobe  turned 
into  stone  on  account  of  her  mourning  for  her  children,  partly  referring 
to  the  ornamental  statues  of  fountains.  Webster,  Devil's  Law  Case,  I,  ii, 
says  of  a  weeping  woman,  '  You  would  have  thought  she  had  turned 
fountain  '. 

IV,  ii,  16-19.     There  is  a  certain  similarity  between  this  passage  and  one  in 
Glapthorne.     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  brackish  drops 
Insinuate  among  the  tender  leaves, 
And  with  its  weight  oppress  them. 

The  Hollander,  vol.  i,  p.  103. 

IV,  ii,  84^6.  The  comparison  of  death  to  a  welcome  rest  after  sickness  or 
watching  is  common  in  Glapthorne.  Cf. 

I  shall  go 

As  willingly  to  death  as  to  my  rest 
After  a  painful  child-birth. 

The  Lady  Mother,  p.  191. 

In  Wallenstein  Isabella,  when  menaced  with  instant  death,  speaks  in  the 
same  vein  as  Caropia  does  here  : 

Should  your  fury  riot  on  my  life, 
'Twould  not  affright  me,  I  should  meet  my  death 
As  willingly  as  1  should  do  my  rest 
After  a  tedious  watching. 

Wallenstein,  vol.  ii,  p.  60. 

Thomas  cites  further  a  passage  from  The  Ladies'  Privilege,  vol.  ii,  p.  1 33, 
which  is  closely  parallel  to  the  last  quoted. 

IV,  ii,  134-7.     This  seems  a  reminiscence  of  the  well-known  passage  in  Othello  : 
Like  the  base  Indian,  threw  a  pearl  away 
Richer  than  all  his  tribe. 

Othello,  V,  ii,  347-8. 


726  REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 

V  i  20-1.  Cf.  Ill,  ii,  48-9  above.  It  may  be  more  than  a  coincidence 
'  that  Newman,  who  plays  in  Wallenstein  much  the  same  role  as  Selinthus 
in  this  drama,  that  of  the  '  honest  and  merry '  (i.e.  foul  mouthed)  lord, 
addresses  a  young  soldier  as  '  my  Myrmidon  ',  Wallenstein,  vol.  ii,  p.  35. 

V,  i,  54-5.  '  Love,  thy  flames  burst  out  in  the  presence  of  the  beloved  one  ; 
in  her  "absence  they  exist  in  desire  for  her'. 

V,  ii,  14-16.  Of  this  simile  Swinburne  says  (George  Chapman,  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.  Animal.  IV,  31,  reports  that  the  elephant  will 
not  drink  clear  water,  but  I  have  not  found  a  source  for  the  cause  assigned 
in  the  text. 

V,  ii,  35-7.    A  favourite  allusion  of  Glapthorne's.     Cf. 

Happy  Arabians,  when  your  phoenix  dies 

In  a  sweet  pile  of  fragrant  spiceries, 

Out  of  the  ashes  of  the  myrrh-burn  d  mother, 

That  you  may  still  have  one,  springs  up  another. 

Argalus  and  Parthenia,  vol.  i,  p.  65. 

Cf.  also  The  Hollander,  vol.  i,  p.  102,  and  Poems,  vol.  ii,  pp.  179,  182,  185. 
V,  ii,  39-40.     Intends  my  will.   I  believe  an  acceptable  meaning  may  be  given 
to  this  passage  if  we  take  intends  in  the  sense  of  'expands,'  '.dilates,' ;  see 
New  English  Dictionary,  sub   Intend.     Abrahen  means  that   his  passion 
for  Caropia  has  passed  the  bounds  set  by  reason,  and  has  expanded  his 
will  into  an  unalterable  determination  to  possess  her. 
V,  ii,  156-8.     Thomas  points  out  a  parallel  in  Glapthorne  : 
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 : 

Mulier  cupido  quod  dicit  amanti, 
In  vento  et  rapida  scribere  oportet  aqua. 

Carmen  Ixx. 

V,  ii,  272.     After  inhaling  the  poison  of  the  handkerchief  Abrahen  expends 

Jhis  last  breath  in  a  kiss,  raises  his  head  to  curse  his  brother,  and  dies. 
V,  ii,  289.     Caropia's  sudden  and  wholly  unexpected  murder  of  Abilqualit 

is  patterned  after  Baccha's  murder  of  Leontes  in  Cupid's  Revenge,  V,  iii. 

Cf.  Introduction,  p.  716. 

V,  ii,  331.     That  fatal  instrument :   the  poisoned  handkerchief. 
Epilogue,  1.  14.     Hang  up  the  poet :     Brereton  thinks  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.  720,  n. 

TEXT  NOTES 

Revenge  for  Honour  was  first  printed  in  1654.  Two  copies  of  this  edition 
are  found  in  the  British  Museum  ;  one  of  them  (E.  231)  has  the  following 
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  edition, 
of  which  copies  exist  in  the  Museum  and  at  the  Bodleian,  appeared  in  1659, 
published  by  Moseley.  It  was  not  reprinted  until  1873,  when  it  was  included 
in  The  Comedies  and  Tragedies  of  George  Chapman  (vol.  iii).  As  usual,  I  refer 
to  this  edition  as  P.  It  was  also  reprinted  in  Shepherd's  edition  of  the  Works 
(vol.  i — Plays)  in  a  modernized  form  with  numerous  emendations,  some  of 
which  I  have  adopted.  I  refer  to  this  edition  as  S, 


NOTES 


727 


The  text  of  Revenge  for  Honour  presents  few  difficulties.  I  have  followed 
the  first  quarto,  comparing  it  in  doubtful  cases  with  Moseley's  edition,  Qa- 
As  I  have  not  noticed  any  differences  between  these  editions,  I  use  the  symbol 
Qq.  to  denote  an  agreement  of  the  first  and  second  quartos. 

The  metre  of  this  play  is  loose  and  irregular,  and  the  lines  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. 


Prologue.    1.  17.  Qq.  The;    P.  mis 
prints  Whe.    S.  corrects. 

1.  1 8.  Qq.     main;     P.     misprints 

mean.     S.  corrects. 
I,  i,  17.     Qq.    ancouge;     S.    'mong. 

49.  Qq.  close  the  line  with  Prince. 
Brereton  (Modern  Language  Re 
view,  October,  1907)  suggests 
[the]  Prince.  I  am  inclined  to 
believe  that  the  proper  name, 
Abilqualit,  has  dropped  off  the 
end  of  the  line,  and  emend 
accordingly. 

65.  Qq.  Court;  P.  misprints  Count. 

82-5.  Qq.  print  as  five  lines, 
ending  nature,  garments,  Supper, 
thanks,  brother.  S.  prints  the 
speech  of  Sel.  as  prose,  and 
Brereton  speaks  of  the  passage 
from  Well  then  to  brother  as 
blank  prose.  But  it  is  easy  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. 

99.  Qq.  oppress  mans  soul;    Brer. 

5ts  [a]  man's  soul. 

.  f  s+       • 


108.  Qq.  to  any  of.     S.  inserts  one 

before  of.     I  prefer  man. 
117-19.  Qq.  print  as    four  lines, 

ending,  humanitie,  read,    virtues 

and  then. 
124.  Qq.     Abenbucar,     AboflH.     I 

emend       Abenhuacar,     Abolaffi. 

See  note,  p.  721. 
127.  Qq.  print  A  want  of  as  the 

last  words  of  1.  126. 
133-5  Qq.  arranges  as  three  lines, 

ending  brief,  else,  Physician. 
136.  Qq.     expalcat;     S.     emends 

expatiate. 

146.  Qq.  Catum;    S.  reads  coitum. 
I  prefer  coition. 

147.  I  insert  the  stage  direction. 
174-8.  Qq.  print  Abil.'s  speech  as 

two  lines  of  prose. 
181-2.  Qq.  print  [It  ...  I  as  one 

line. 
186-9.  Qq.    print    as    four  lines, 

ending  trust,  command,  creature 

Lord. 


224.  Qq.  said;    S.  emends  sad. 

231-2.  The  text  is  somewhat  per 
plexing.  S.  suggests  the  reading 
Endeavour  if  it  be  good,  to  assist 

you, 
Or  to  reclaim,  if  ill,  from  your 

bad  purpose. 

I  prefer  to  keep  the  original 
order,  and  to  enclose  the  words 
or  to  good  in  parenthesis. 

258.  Qq.  sinlesse,  harmlesse;  S. 
reads  sin  less  harmless,  which 
seems  to  me  nonsense. 

277.  Qq.  fac'd.  I  keep  the  original, 
but  would  suggest  found  as  a 
possible  reading. 

328.  Qq.  ye;  S.  emends  he.  Per 
haps  we  should  read  /. 

336.  Qq.  what;  S.  reads  That, 
but  this  is  unnecessary. 

389.  Qq.  lead;    P.  misprints  iead. 

404.  Brereton  suggests  dropping 
You.  This  would  give  a  plainer 
sense,  but  see  note,  p.  722. 

408.  Qq.  deceive.  Deighton  (Old 
Dramatists,' p.  144)  suggests  read 
ing  deserve,  but  this  is  unneces 
sary. 

450.  Qq.   with  people.    S.   inserts 

the  before  people. 

n,  i,  17.  Brereton  thinks  '  probably, 
but  by  no  means  certainly,  we 
should  omit  them.' 

43.  Brereton  would  read  cause ', 
a  possessive  case  like  people  in 
1.  152  below.  I  prefer  to  take 
it  as  an  objective  in  apposition 
with  danger. 

53-8.  Qq.  print  as  five  lines,  ending 
religious,  thanks,  Abilqualit,  say, 
creature. 

74.  Qq.'glorious ;  S.  emends  glories. 

105-8.  Qq.  print  as  three  lines, 
ending  once,  truth,  applauses. 

108.  Qq.  a;  S.  alters  to  as.  But, 
as  Brereton  says,  this  =  '  this 
is  '. 

152.  Qq.  people;  S.  people's,  an 
unnecessary  change  which  has 
crept  into  the  present  text. 

170-1.  Qq.    print    as    three  lines, 

ending  expedition,  us,  Lord. 
193.  Qq.  cast;    I  emend  caste, 


728 


REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 


205.  I  insert  [aside].  Brereton 
proposes  to  read  Alone!  The 
engine;  but  I  think  we  may 
retain  the  original,  and  interpret 
'  The  engine  (i.e.  his  device) 
works  by  itself '. 

295.  S.  reads  Force  you  endure ; 
but  this  violent  alteration  of  the 
text  is  quite  uncalled  for. 

309.  Qq.  have  your  as  the  last 
word  of  this  line. 

311.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction  after  this  line. 

325.  Qq.  with;    P.  misprints  wiih. 

327.  Qq.  whether;  S.  emends 
whither, 

335.  Qq.    has;   S.   He  has,  which 
is  unnecessary,  as  an  easily  under 
stood  subject  is  often  not  ex 
pressed.     Cf.  I,  i,  169. 

336.  Qq.  he  takes ;  S.  he  may  take. 
I  do  not  think  such  regularizing 
of    the    characteristically    loose 
old   construction   is   permissible 
to  an  editor. 

337-8.  Abrahen's  speech  is  printed 
as  one  line  in  Qq. 

871-2.  Osman's  speech  is  printed 
as  one  line  in  Qq. 

385.  Qq.  march;  P.  misprints  mar  eh. 
n,  ii,  24.  Brereton  would  put  a 
comma  after  to  boast,  thus  mak 
ing  the  infinitive  depend  upon 
woo'd,  1.  23  ;  but  it  seems  sim 
pler  and  more  in  accordance 
with  the  context  to  take  to 
boast  as  depending  upon  desir'd 
in  1.  22. 

45-7.  Qq.  print  as  three  lines, 
ending  made  it,  from  the,  dream. 

51.  Qq.  end  this  line  with  mis 
fortune,  printing  we  as  the  first 
word  of  1.  52. 

55-60.  Qq.     print     as     six    lines, 
ending    together,    but,    approach, 
happinesse,  forces,  intimations. 
in,  i,  1.     I  have  inserted  the  direc 
tion  [without]. 

9.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction. 

84.  Q.  count;   S.  emends  commit. 

102.  Qq.  print  That  as  the  first 
word  in  1.  103. 

128.  Qq.  print  And  so  as  the  first 
words  of  1.  129. 

134.  I  have  inserted  [aside]. 

138.  The  stage  direction  Enter 
Mura  occurs  in  1.  135  in  Qq.  and 
should  be  printed  here  in 
parenthesis,  not  in  brackets. 
Cf.  p.  126,  11.  87,  90. 


154.  Qq.  print  the  words  what  .  .  . 

violate  in  parenthesis. 
208.  Perhaps  him  has  dropped  off 

the  end  of  this  line. 

211.  Qq.  print   This  wildnesse  as 
the  first  words  of  1.  212. 

212.  Qq.  befit;  S.  befits. 

Ill,  ii,  1.     Qq.  lest,  which  S.  retains. 

Brereton  emends  less. 
45.  Qq.    who   gather' d;    S.   inserts 

have  after  who. 

52.  Qq.  became;  S.  emends  Become. 
62.  Qq.  print  lose  as  the  first  word 

of  1.  63. 
75.  Qq.  less;    S.  wrongly  alters  to 

Lest. 
91.  Qq.  print  on  him  as  the  first 

words  of  1.  92. 
97.  I    have    supplied    the    stage 

direction  after  this  line. 
120.  Qq.  print  so  pray  as  the  first 

words  of  1.  121. 
128.  Qq.  as  it  got.     S.  inserts  had 

after  it. 
138-9.  Qq.  print  Abil.'s  speech  as 

one  line. 
139.  Qq.    print    This    warrant    as 

the  first  words  of  1.  140. 
141.  I  have  inserted  [aside]. 
143.  Qq.    accustomed.     S.    emends 

unaccustomed.       The       context 

shows  this  to  be  necessary. 
141-6.  Qq.    print     as    six    lines, 

ending    of   it,    they,    accustomed, 

neere,  resolved,  defend. 
147.  Qq.      Carpoia's,     which     P. 

silently  corrects. 
IV,  i,  44-5.  In  Qq.  only  the  words 

from  thou'rt  to  Empire  are  in 
cluded  in  the  parenthesis. 
54.  Qq.    exemplar;  S.    exemplary. 

The  change  is  unnecessary.     In 

Shirley's    Cardinal,    III,    ii,    we 

find  a  parallel,  exemplar  justice. 
94.  Qq.    according;    P.    misprints 

accordiug. 
110.  Qq.  the;    S.   emends  thy.     I 

have  accepted  this,  although  it  is 

possible  that  the  article  is]  used 

for  the  possessive  pronoun. 
118.  Qq.  too;    I  emend  'Twere. 
125.  I  have  inserted  the  aside  in 

this  line  as  in  11.  171,  178  below. 
135-6.  Qq.   print   these  two  lines 

as  one,  and  read  fures,   which 

S.  emends  furies. 
130.  I    have    inserted    the    stage 

direction  in  this  line. 
160.  Qq.  is;  P  misprints  his. 
165-6.  Qq.    prints    as  three   lines, 

ending  blameless,  troubled,  frenxie. 


NOTES 


729 


196.  I  have  inserted  To  Abilqualit. 

201.  In  Qq.  the  words  Enter,  Enter 
are  printed  in  the  margin  in 
italics  like  a  stage  direction.  I 
think  it  is  plain  that  they  are 
spoken  by  the  mutinous  soldiers 
without,  and  have  inserted  a 
stage  direction  accordingly. 

201,  203,  204.  I  have  inserted  the 
stage  directions  in  these  lines. 

209.  The  stage  direction  in  this 
line  is  found  in  1.  208  in|Qq.,rand 
should  be  printed  in  paren 
thesis,  not  in  brackets. 

220,  229,  232,  238,  265.  I  have 
inserted  the  stage  directions  in 
these  lines. 

277-8.  Qq.  print  our  royal  to  see 
in"  line. 


289.  Qq.  start;  S.  emends  Starts. 

312-8.  Qq.  print  Anon  as  the  first 
word  of  1.  313,  and  Subject  as 
the  first  word  of  1.  314. 

330.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
direction  rising. 

IV,  ii,  14.  I  have  added  exit  Perilinda 

to  the  stage  direction  to  prepare 
for  her  re-entrance,  1.  75  below. 

27.  Qq.  off-spring  of;  Brereton 
suggests  offering  to.  I  think 
offering  is  certainly  right,  but 
we  may  retain  the  original  of. 

86-7.  Qq.  print  Caropia's  speech 
as  one  line. 

40.  Qq.    print   which   as   the   last 
word  of  1.  39. 

63-4.  Qq.   print  Caropia's  speech 

as  one  line. 
71.  P.  misprints      the     speaker's 

name  in  the  latter  part  of  this 

line  as  Au. 

81.  Qq.    prints    him    as   the    first 
word  of  1.  82. 

82,  95,  104,  115,  130.  I  have  in 
serted    the   stage   directions    in 
these  lines. 

95-9.  Qq.  print  as  five  lines, 
ending  Pray,  do  you,  for  the, 
piecemeale,  dog! 

101-2.  Qq.  end  these  lines  with 
the  words  last  and  with. 

V,  1,    19-20.  Qq.    print    the    words 

Never  to  close  as  one  line. 
26.  S.  inserts  your  before  friends. 
37.  I     have    inserted    the    stage 

direction. 

41.  Qq.  those  these,  an  evident  mis 
take  for  though  these.     S.  made 
the  correction. 

46.  Qq.  Very.  P.  gives  us  the 
'Wellerism'  Wery. 


V.  ii.  In  the  stage  direction  at  the 
beginning  of  this  scene  Qq.  read 
Enter  Abrahen,  Simanthes  and 
Mesithes.  The  entrance  of  Mesi- 
thes  is  an  anticipation,  for  his 
true  entrance  occurs  below  in 
1.  16.  Qq.  place  it  after  1.  15. 

30.  Qq.  is  a  most  stubborn  Malady 
in  a  Lady,  not  cur'd.  The  words 
in  a  Lady,  are  destructive  alike 
to  metre  and  sense.  Brereton 
conjectures  that  they  represent 
a  misprint  of  Malady, which  word 
was  later  inserted  in  the  text, 
without  the  misprint's  being  re 
moved.  This  explanation  is  pro 
bably  correct,  although  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  phrase  might  be 
an  actor's  '  gag ',  interjected  as 
an  aside  to  the  audience. 

39.  Qq.  intend;  S.  alters  to  in 
deed.  Brereton  suggests  in  th' 
end  or  entered  in,  but  admits 
that  these  are  unsatisfactory.  I 
believe  that  all  that  is  necessary 
is  to  replace  the  final  5  which 
has  dropped  off.  For  the  sense, 
see  note,  p.  726. 

52-3.  Qq.  pnnt  as  two  lines,  ending 
order,  presence. 

55.  Qq.  put  the  entrance  of  Caro- 
pia  after  1.  54.  As  this  was 
apparently  for  typographical 
convenience,  I  have  not  hesi 
tated  to  alter  it. 

75,  102,  179.  I  have  inserted  aside 
in  these  lines. 

133.  Qq.  print  when  your  as  the 
last  words  of  1.  132. 

199.  I  have  supplied  the  direction 
Cries  within.     Cf.  note  above  on 
IV,  i,  201. 

200.  I  have  inserted  the  necessary 
entrance  before  this  line. 

211,  266.  I  have  inserted  the  stage 
directions  in  these  lines. 

229.  Qq.  our  strengths  and  fates. 
Fates  is  evidently  an  anticipa 
tion  of  the  same  word  at  the 
close  of  the  line.  The  emenda 
tion  of  S.,  fortunes,  seems  to  me 
a  very  certain  one. 

235.  Qq.  but  our  just  or  me  has 
strength  to  punish.  S.  inserts 
enough  before  strength.  I  be 
lieve  an  acceptable  line  may  be 
obtained!  by  transferring  thy, 
printed  as  the  first  word  in  1. 
236  in  Qq.,  to  the  end  of  1.  235. 

272.  Qq.  kiss'd;  Brereton  suggests 
kiss  =  expend  my  breath  in  a 


730 


REVENGE  FOR  HONOUR 


kiss;  but  I  believe  the  past 
tense  may  be  retained. 

297.  Qq.  you  dear  Abilqualit;  S. 
inserts  With  before  you.  This 
seems  a  necessary  emenda 
tion. 

306.  Qq.  print  with  justice  as  the 
first  words  of  1.  307. 

322-325.  Qq.  print  as  four  lines, 
ending  anon,  him,  faithfull,  be. 
Brereton  suggests  arranging  the 
passage,  11.  322-7,  as  five  lines, 
ending  Prince,  souldiers,  sav'd, 


and  I,  Farewell,  and  making 
Sure  to  not  a  short  line.  This 
is  perhaps  a  better  arrangement 
than  mine,  but  I  wished  to 

f-eserve  the  arrangement  of  the 
q.  wherever  it  was  possible  to 
scover  even  a  rough  rhythm 
in  it. 

336.  Qq.  Festival.  I  restore  the 
final  s,  which  I  think  has  dropped 
off. 

Epilogue.    1.    9.  Qq.  What;    P.  mis 
prints  Wnat. 


rv 


<A 


!' 


BINDING  LIST    SEP  11 1950 


PR  Chapmpn,  George 

2441      The  pl°ys  end  poems  of 

P3  George  Chapman 

v.l 


PLEASE  DO  NOT  REMOVE 
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