Bussy D'Ambois and The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois

Command the horse troopes to over-runne the traitor. Exeunt. 10

Aumale. What spirit breathes thus in this more then man,

Turnes flesh to ayre possest, and in a storme

Teares men about the field like autumne leaves?

He turnd wilde lightning in the lackies hands,

Who, though their sodaine violent twitch unhorst him,15

Yet when he bore himselfe, their saucie fingers

Flew as too hot off, as hee had beene fire.

The ambush then made in, through all whose force

Hee drave as if a fierce and fire-given canon

Had spit his iron vomit out amongst them.20

The battailes then in two halfe-moones enclos'd him,

In which he shew'd as if he were the light,

And they but earth, who, wondring what hee was,

Shruncke their steele hornes and gave him glorious passe.

And as a great shot from a towne besieg'd25

At foes before it flyes forth blacke and roring,

But they too farre, and that with waight opprest

(As if disdaining earth) doth onely grasse,

Strike earth, and up againe into the ayre,

Againe sinkes to it, and againe doth rise,30

And keepes such strength that when it softliest moves

It piece-meale shivers any let it proves—

So flew brave Clermont forth, till breath forsooke him,

Then fell to earth; and yet (sweet man) even then

His spirits convulsions made him bound againe35

Past all their reaches; till, all motion spent,

His fixt eyes cast a blaze of such disdaine,

All stood and star'd, and untouch'd let him lie,

As something sacred fallen out of the skie. A cry within.

O now some rude hand hath laid hold on him!40

See, prisoner led, with his bands honour'd more

Then all the freedome he enjoy'd before.

Mail. At length wee have you, sir.

Clermont. You have much joy too;

I made you sport. Yet, but I pray you tell mee,

Are not you perjur'd?

Mail. No: I swore for the King. 45

Cler. Yet perjurie, I hope, is perjurie.

Mail. But thus forswearing is not perjurie.

You are no politician: not a fault,

How foule soever, done for private ends,

Is fault in us sworne to the publike good:50

Wee never can be of the damned crew;

Wee may impolitique our selves (as 'twere)

Into the kingdomes body politique,

Whereof indeede we're members; you misse termes.

Cler. The things are yet the same.55

Mail. Tis nothing so; the propertie is alter'd:

Y'are no lawyer. Or say that othe and othe

Are still the same in number, yet their species

Differ extreamely, as, for flat example,

When politique widowes trye men for their turne,60

Before they wed them, they are harlots then,

But when they wed them, they are honest women:

So private men, when they forsweare, betray,

Are perjur'd treachers, but being publique once,

That is, sworne-married to the publique good—65

Cler. Are married women publique?

Mail. Publique good;

For marriage makes them, being the publique good,

And could not be without them: so I say

Men publique, that is, being sworne-married

To the good publique, being one body made70

With the realmes body politique, are no more

Private, nor can be perjur'd, though forsworne,

More then a widow married, for the act

Of generation is for that an harlot,

Because for that shee was so, being unmarried:75

But, Captaines all, you know me nobly borne;80

Cler. Yet false policie 90

Would cover all, being like offenders hid,

That (after notice taken where they hide)

The more they crouch and stirre, the more are spide.

Aum. I wonder how this chanc'd you.

Cler. Some informer,

Bloud-hound to mischiefe, usher to the hang-man,95

If it be other, never pittie mee.105

Cler. It shall be done. This heavily prevents110

My purpos'd recreation in these parts;

Which now I thinke on, let mee begge you, sir,

To lend me some one captaine of your troopes,

To beare the message of my haplesse service

And miserie to my most noble mistresse,115

Countesse of Cambray; to whose house this night

I promist my repaire, and know most truely,

With all the ceremonies of her favour,

She sure expects mee.

Mail. Thinke you now on that?

Cler. On that, sir? I, and that so worthily,120

That if the King, in spight of your great service,

Would send me instant promise of enlargement,

Condition I would set this message by,

I would not take it, but had rather die.

Aum. Your message shall be done, sir: I, my selfe,125

Will be for you a messenger of ill.

Cler. I thanke you, sir, and doubt not yet to live

To quite your kindnesse.

Aum. Meane space use your spirit

And knowledge for the chearfull patience

Of this so strange and sodaine consequence.130

Cler. Good sir, beleeve that no particular torture

Can force me from my glad obedience

To any thing the high and generall Cause,

To match with his whole fabricke, hath ordainde;

And know yee all (though farre from all your aymes,135

Yet worth them all, and all mens endlesse studies)

That in this one thing, all the discipline

Of manners and of manhood is contain'd:—

A man to joyne himselfe with th'Universe

In his maine sway, and make (in all things fit)140

One with that all, and goe on round as it;

Not plucking from the whole his wretched part,

And into straites, or into nought revert,

Wishing the compleate Universe might be

Subject to such a ragge of it as hee;145

But to consider great Necessitie

All things, as well refract as voluntarie,

Reduceth to the prime celestiall cause;

Which he that yeelds to with a mans applause,

And cheeke by cheeke goes, crossing it no breath,150

But like Gods image followes to the death,

That man is truely wise, and every thing

(Each cause and every part distinguishing)

In nature with enough art understands,

And that full glory merits at all hands155

That doth the whole world at all parts adorne,

And appertaines to one celestiall borne. Exeunt omnes.

A good man happy is a common good;

Vile men advanc'd live of the common bloud.

Bal. Give, and then take, like children!

Ren. Bounties are

As soone repented as they happen rare.20

Bal. What should Kings doe, and men of eminent places,

But, as they gather, sow gifts to the graces?

And where they have given, rather give againe

(Being given for vertue) then, like babes and fooles,

Take and repent gifts? why are wealth and power?25

Ren. Power and wealth move to tyranny, not bountie;

The merchant for his wealth is swolne in minde,

When yet the chiefe lord of it is the winde.

Bal. That may so chance to our state-merchants too;

Something performed, that hath not farre to goe.30

Shee cannot live and this unwreakt sustaine.35

The woes are bloudy that in women raigne.

The Sicile gulfe keepes feare in lesse degree;

There is no tyger not more tame then shee.

Bal. There is no looking home, then?

Ren. Home! Medea

With all her hearbs, charmes, thunders, lightning,40

Made not her presence and blacke hants more dreadfull.

Bal. Come, to the King; if he reforme not all,

Marke the event, none stand where that must fall. Exeunt.

And hee breake, some brack's in the frame of nature5

That forceth his breach.

Aumale. Save your ladiship!

Coun. All welcome! Come you from my worthy servant?

Aum. I, madame, and conferre such newes from him—

Coun. Such newes! what newes?

Aum. Newes that I wish some other had the charge of.10

Coun. O, what charge? what newes?

Aum. Your ladiship must use some patience,

Or else I cannot doe him that desire

He urg'd with such affection to your graces.

Coun. Doe it, for heavens love, doe it! if you serve15

His kinde desires, I will have patience.

Is hee in health?

Aum. He is.

Count. Why, that's the ground

Of all the good estate wee hold in earth;

All our ill built upon that is no more

Then wee may beare, and should; expresse it all.20

Aum. Madame, tis onely this; his libertie—

Coun. His libertie! Without that health is nothing.

Why live I, but to aske in doubt of that?

Is that bereft him?

Aum. You'll againe prevent me.

Coun. No more, I sweare; I must heare, and together25

Come all my miserie! Ile hold, though I burst.

Aum. Then, madame, thus it fares; he was envited,

By way of honour to him, to take view

Of all the powers his brother Baligny

Hath in his government; which rang'd in battailes,30

Maillard, Lieutenant to the Governour,

Having receiv'd strickt letters from the King,

To traine him to the musters and betray him

To their supprise; which, with Chalon in chiefe,

And other captaines (all the field put hard35

By his incredible valour for his scape)

They haplesly and guiltlesly perform'd;

And to Bastile hee's now led prisoner.

Count. What change is here! how are my hopes prevented!

O my most faithfull servant, thou betraid!40

Will Kings make treason lawfull? Is societie

(To keepe which onely Kings were first ordain'd)

Lesse broke in breaking faith twixt friend and friend

Then twixt the King and subject? let them feare

Kings presidents in licence lacke no danger.45

Kings are compar'd to Gods, and should be like them,

Full in all right, in nought superfluous,

Nor nothing straining past right for their right.

Raigne justly, and raigne safely. Policie

Is but a guard corrupted, and a way50

Venter'd in desarts, without guide or path.

Kings punish subjects errors with their owne.

Kings are like archers, and their subjects, shafts:

For as when archers let their arrowes flye,

They call to them, and bid them flye or fall,55

As if twere in the free power of the shaft

To flye or fall, when onely tis the strength,

Straight shooting, compasse given it by the archer,

That makes it hit or misse; and doing eyther,

Hee's to be prais'd or blam'd, and not the shaft:60

So Kings to subjects crying, "Doe, doe not this,"

Must to them by their owne examples strength,

The straightnesse of their acts, and equall compasse,

Give subjects power t'obey them in the like;

Not shoote them forth with faultie ayme and strength,65

And lay the fault in them for flying amisse.

Aum. But for your servant, I dare sweare him guiltlesse.

Count. Hee would not for his kingdome traitor be;

His lawes are not so true to him, as he.

O knew I how to free him, by way forc'd70

Who gives no trust, all trust is apt to breake;

Hate like hell mouth who thinke not what they speake.

Aum. Well, madame, I must tender my attendance

On him againe. Will't please you to returne85

Coun. Then must my life cease. Teares are all the vent

My life hath to scape death. Teares please me better

Then all lifes comforts, being the naturall seede105

To acts of justice? tis a reverence

Makes them despis'd, and showes they sticke and tyre10

In what their free powers should be hot as fire.

Henry. Well, take your will, sir;—Ile have mine ere long.— Aversus.

But wherein is this Clermont such a rare one?

Gui. In his most gentle and unwearied minde,

Rightly to vertue fram'd in very nature;15

In his most firme inexorable spirit

To be remov'd from any thing hee chuseth

For worthinesse; or beare the lest perswasion

To what is base, or fitteth not his object;

In his contempt of riches, and of greatnesse20

In estimation of th'idolatrous vulgar;

His scorne of all things servile and ignoble,

Though they could gaine him never such advancement;

His liberall kinde of speaking what is truth,

In spight of temporising; the great rising25

And learning of his soule so much the more

Against ill fortune, as shee set her selfe

Sharpe against him or would present most hard,

To shunne the malice of her deadliest charge;

His detestation of his speciall friends,30

When he perceiv'd their tyrannous will to doe,

Or their abjection basely to sustaine

Any injustice that they could revenge;

The flexibilitie of his most anger,

Even in the maine careere and fury of it,35

When any object of desertfull pittie

Offers it selfe to him; his sweet disposure,

As much abhorring to behold as doe

Any unnaturall and bloudy action;

His just contempt of jesters, parasites,40

Your bastard Teucers, that, their mischiefes done,50

Runne to your shield for shelter; Cacusses

That cut their too large murtherous theveries

To their dens length still. Woe be to that state

Where treacherie guards, and ruine makes men great!

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

And if in worst events his will be done,

How can the best be better? all is one.

Mail. Me thinkes tis prettie.

Cler. Put no difference

If you have this, or not this; but as children15

Playing at coites ever regard their game,

And care not for their coites, so let a man

The things themselves that touch him not esteeme,

But his free power in well disposing them.

Chal. Prettie, from toyes!

Cler. Me thinkes this double disticke 20

Seemes prettily too to stay superfluous longings:

"Not to have want, what riches doth exceede?

Not to be subject, what superiour thing?

He that to nought aspires, doth nothing neede;

Who breakes no law is subject to no King."25

Mail. This goes to mine eare well, I promise you.

Chal. O, but tis passing hard to stay one thus.

Cler. Tis so; rancke custome raps men so beyond it.

And as tis hard so well mens dores to barre

To keepe the cat out and th'adulterer:30

So tis as hard to curbe affections so

Wee let in nought to make them over-flow.

And as of Homers verses, many critickes

On those stand of which times old moth hath eaten

The first or last feete, and the perfect parts35

Of his unmatched poeme sinke beneath,

With upright gasping and sloath dull as death:

So the unprofitable things of life,

And those we cannot compasse, we affect;

All that doth profit and wee have, neglect,40

Like covetous and basely getting men

That, gathering much, use never what they keepe;

But for the least they loose, extreamely weepe.

Mail. This prettie talking, and our horses walking

Downe this steepe hill, spends time with equall profit.45

Cler. Tis well bestow'd on ye; meate and men sicke

Agree like this and you: and yet even this

Is th'end of all skill, power, wealth, all that is.

Chal. I long to heare, sir, how your mistresse takes this.

Mail. Wee soone shall know it; see Aumall return'd.50

Aumale. Ease to your bands, sir!

Cler. Welcome, worthy friend!

Chal. How tooke his noblest mistresse your sad message?

Aum. As great rich men take sodaine povertie.

I never witness'd a more noble love,

Nor a more ruthfull sorrow: I well wisht55

Some other had beene master of my message.

Mail. Y'are happy, sir, in all things, but this one

Of your unhappy apprehension.

Cler. This is to mee, compar'd with her much mone,

As one teare is to her whole passion.60

Aum. Sir, shee commends her kindest service to you,

And this rich cabinet.

Chal. O happy man!

This may enough hold to redeeme your bands.

Cler. These clouds, I doubt not, will be soone blowne over.

Aum. Your hope is just and happy; see, sir, both65

In both the looks of these.

Baligny. Here's a discharge

For this your prisoner, my good Lord Lieutenant.

Mail. Alas, sir, I usurpe that stile, enforc't,

And hope you know it was not my aspiring.

Bal. Well, sir, my wrong aspir'd past all mens hopes.70

Mail. I sorrow for it, sir.

Renel. You see, sir, there

Your prisoners discharge autenticall.

Mail. It is, sir, and I yeeld it him with gladnesse.

Bal. Brother, I brought you downe to much good purpose.

Cler. Repeate not that, sir; the amends makes all.75

Ren. I joy in it, my best and worthiest friend;

O, y'have a princely fautor of the Guise.

Bal. I thinke I did my part to.

Ren. Well, sir, all

Is in the issue well: and (worthiest friend)

Here's from your friend, the Guise; here from the Countesse,80

Your brothers mistresse, the contents whereof

I know, and must prepare you now to please

Th'unrested spirit of your slaughtered brother,

If it be true, as you imagin'd once,

His apparition show'd it. The complot85

Is now laid sure betwixt us; therefore haste

Both to your great friend (who hath some use waightie

For your repaire to him) and to the Countesse,

Whose satisfaction is no lesse important.

Cler. I see all, and will haste as it importeth.90

And good friend, since I must delay a little

My wisht attendance on my noblest mistresse,

Excuse me to her, with returne of this,

And endlesse protestation of my service;

And now become as glad a messenger,95

At all parts, being dead as he presag'd.100

Bal. You Ile leade no more; 105

It was to ominous and foule before. Exeunt.

Another th'other, all the Christian world

And all her lawes whose observation

Stands upon faith, above the power of reason—

Leaving (I say) all these, this might suffice

To fray yee from your vicious swindge in ill25

And set you more on fire to doe more good;

That since the world (as which of you denies?)

Stands by proportion, all may thence conclude

That all the joynts and nerves sustaining nature

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

As any one good unrewarded die,

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

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

Gui. By no meanes. 40

For as in sleepe, which bindes both th'outward senses

And the sense common to, th'imagining power

(Stird up by formes hid in the memories store,

Or by the vapours of o'er-flowing humours45

In bodies full and foule, and mixt with spirits)

Faines many strange, miraculous images,

In which act it so painfully applyes

It selfe to those formes that the common sense

It actuates with his motion, and thereby50

Those fictions true seeme and have reall act:

So, in the strength of our conceits awake,

The cause alike doth [oft] like fictions make.

Gui. Be what it will, twas a presage of something

Waightie and secret, which th'advertisements55

I have receiv'd from all parts, both without

And in this kingdome, as from Rome and Spaine,

Lorraine and Savoye, gives me cause to thinke,

All writing that our plots catastrophe,

For propagation of the Catholique cause,60

I shall be said then to abandon France

In so important an occasion;65

And that mine enemies (their profit making

Of my faint absence) soone would let that fall,

That all my paines did to this height exhale.

Cler. Let all fall that would rise unlawfully!

Make not your forward spirit in vertues right70

A property for vice, by thrusting on

Further then all your powers can fetch you off.

It is enough, your will is infinite

To all things vertuous and religious,

Which, within limits kept, may without danger75

Let vertue some good from your graces gather.

Avarice of all is ever nothings father.

Umb. Danger (the spurre of all great mindes) is ever

The curbe to your tame spirits; you respect not

(With all your holinesse of life and learning)80

More then the present, like illiterate vulgars;

Your minde (you say) kept in your fleshes bounds

Showes that mans will must rul'd be by his power:

When by true doctrine you are taught to live

Rather without the body then within,85

To be His image is to doe those things

That make us deathlesse, which by death is onely90

Doing those deedes that fit eternitie;

And those deedes are the perfecting that justice

That makes the world last, which proportion is

Of punishment and wreake for every wrong,

As well as for right a reward as strong:95

Away, then! use the meanes thou hast to right

The wrong I suffer'd. What corrupted law

Leaves unperform'd in Kings, doe thou supply,

And be above them all in dignitie. Exit.

Gui. Why stand'st thou still thus, and applyest thine eares100

Of any love to mee, no more beares hee110

(Since you to me supply it) hate to you.

Which reason and which justice is perform'd

In spirits tenne parts more then fleshy men;

To whose fore-sights our acts and thoughts lie open:

And therefore, since hee saw the treacherie115

Late practis'd by my brother Baligny,

Hee would not honor his hand with the justice

(As hee esteemes it) of his blouds revenge,

To which my sister needes would have him sworne,

Before she would consent to marry him.120

Gui. O Baligny!—who would beleeve there were

A man that (onely since his lookes are rais'd

Upwards, and have but sacred heaven in sight)

Could beare a minde so more then divellish?

As for the painted glory of the countenance,125

Flitting in Kings, doth good for nought esteeme,

And the more ill hee does, the better seeme.

Cler. Wee easily may beleeve it, since we see

In this worlds practise few men better be.

Justice to live doth nought but justice neede,130

But policie must still on mischiefe feede.

Untruth, for all his ends, truths name doth sue in;

None safely live but those that study ruine.

A good man happy is a common good;

Ill men advanc'd live of the common bloud.135

Gui. But this thy brothers spirit startles mee,

These spirits seld or never hanting men

But some mishap ensues.

Cler. Ensue what can;

Tyrants may kill but never hurt a man;

All to his good makes, spight of death and hell.140