So cleare and free as heretofore, but foule5

As if the thick complexions of men

Govern'd within them.

Bussy. 'Tis not like, my lord,

That men in women rule, but contrary;

For as the moone, of all things God created

Not only is the most appropriate image10

Or glasse to shew them how they wax and wane,

But in her height and motion likewise beares

Imperiall influences that command

In all their powers, and make them wax and wane:

So women, that, of all things made of nothing,15

Are the most perfect idols of the moone,

Or still-unwean'd sweet moon-calves with white faces,

Not only are paterns of change to men,

But as the tender moon-shine of their beauties

Cleares or is cloudy, make men glad or sad.20

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

Monsieur. But here the moons are chang'd (as the King notes)

And either men rule in them, or some power

Beyond their voluntary faculty,

For nothing can recover their lost faces.25

Montsurry. None can be alwayes one: our griefes and joyes

Hold severall scepters in us, and have times

For their divided empires: which griefe now in them

Doth prove as proper to his diadem.

Buss. And griefe's a naturall sicknesse of the bloud,30

That time to part asks, as his comming had;

Onely sleight fooles griev'd suddenly are glad.

A man may say t'a dead man, "be reviv'd,"

As well as to one sorrowfull, "be not griev'd."

And therefore (princely mistresse) in all warres35

Against these base foes that insult on weaknesse,

And still fight hous'd behind the shield of Nature,

Of priviledge law, treachery, or beastly need,

Your servant cannot help; authority here

Goes with corruption, something like some states40

That back woorst men; valour to them must creepe

That to themselves left would feare him asleepe.

Duchess. Ye all take that for granted that doth rest

Yet to be prov'd; we all are as we were,

As merry and as free in thought as ever.45

Guise. And why then can ye not disclose your thoughts?

Tamyra. Me thinks the man hath answer'd for us well.

Mons. The man! why, madam, d'ee not know his name?

Tam. Man is a name of honour for a King:

Additions take away from each chiefe thing.50

Mons. [to Bussy.] Heark, sweet heart, here's a bar set to your valour!

It cannot enter here, no, not to notice

Of what your name is; your great eagles beak55

True courtiers should be modest, and not nice;65

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

Mons. Sweet heart, come hither! what if one should make

Horns at Mountsurry, would it not strike him jealous

Through all the proofes of his chaste ladies vertues?

Buss. If he be wise, not.70

Mons. What, not if I should name the gardener

That I would have him think hath grafted him?

Buss. So the large licence that your greatnesse uses

To jest at all men may be taught indeed

To make a difference of the grounds you play on,75

Both in the men you scandall and the matter.

Mons. As how, as how?

Buss. Perhaps led with a traine

Where you may have your nose made lesse and slit,

Your eyes thrust out.

Mons. Peace, peace, I pray thee, peace!

Who dares doe that? the brother of his King!80

Spouted with lawyers mouthes, and gushing bloud,

Like to so many torrents; all your glories85

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

(Though ne're so much beneath you) like a box tree

I would out of the roughnesse of my root

Ramme hardnesse in my lownesse, and, like death

Mounted on earthquakes, I would trot through all

Honors and horrors, thorow foule and faire,95

And from your whole strength tosse you into the aire.

Mons. Goe, th'art a devill! such another spirit

Could not be still'd from all th'Armenian dragons.

O, my loves glory! heire to all I have

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

If thou out-live me, as I know thou must,

Or else hath Nature no proportion'd end

To her great labours; she hath breath'd a minde

Into thy entrails, of desert to swell

Into another great Augustus Cæsar;105

Organs and faculties fitted to her greatnesse;

And should that perish like a common spirit,

Nature's a courtier and regards no merit.

Henr. Here's nought but whispering with us; like a calme

Before a tempest, when the silent ayre110

Layes her soft eare close to the earth to hearken

For that she feares steales on to ravish her;

Some fate doth joyne our eares to heare it comming.

Come, my brave eagle, let's to covert flie!

I see almighty Æther in the smoak115

Mons. No more. 120

Mons. What, more than two?

Mont. How monstrous is this!

Mons. Why?

Mont. You make me horns.

Mons. Not I, it is a work without my power,

Married mens ensignes are not made with fingers;

Of divine fabrique they are, not mens hands:125

The learning of a noble man, and read,130

Here's something to those points. Soft, you must pawne

Your honour, having read it, to return it.

Mont. Not I:—I pawne mine honour for a paper!

Mons. You must not buy it under. Exeunt Guise and Monsieur.

Mont. Keepe it then,

And keepe fire in your bosome!

Tam. What sayes he? 135

Tam. How fares my lord?

Takes my love any thing to heart he sayes?

Mont. Come, y'are a—

Tam. What, my lord?

Mont. The plague of Herod

Feast in his rotten entrailes!

Tam. Will you wreak

Your angers just cause given by him on me?140

Mont. By him?

Tam. By him, my lord. I have admir'd

You could all this time be at concord with him,

That still hath plaid such discords on your honour.

Mont. Perhaps tis with some proud string of my wives.

Tam. How's that, my lord?

Mont. Your tongue will still admire, 145

Till my head be the miracle of the world.

Tam. O woe is me! She seemes to sound.

Pero. What does your lordship meane?

Madam, be comforted; my lord but tries you.

Madam! Help, good my lord, are you not mov'd?

Doe your set looks print in your words your thoughts?150

Sweet lord, cleare up those eyes,

Unbend that masking forehead. Whence is it

You rush upon her with these Irish warres,

More full of sound then hurt? But it is enough;

You have shot home, your words are in her heart;155

She has not liv'd to beare a triall now.

Mont. Look up, my love, and by this kisse receive

My soule amongst thy spirits, for supply

To thine chac'd with my fury.

Tam. O, my lord,

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

Mont. 'Twas from my troubled bloud, and not from me.

I know not how I fare; a sudden night

Flowes through my entrailes, and a headlong chaos

Murmurs within me, which I must digest,

And not drowne her in my confusions,165

And then, you must heare from me, there's no meane

In any passion I shall feele for you.175

Love is a rasor, cleansing, being well us'd,

But fetcheth blood still, being the least abus'd.

To tell you briefly all—the man that left me

When you appear'd, did turne me worse than woman,

And stab'd me to the heart, thus, with his fingers.180

Tam. O happy woman! comes my stain from him,

It is my beauty, and that innocence proves

That slew Chymæra, rescued Peleus

From all the savage beasts in Peleon,

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

That, where thou fear'st, are dreadfull, and his face190

Turn'd in flight from thee that had thee in chace!

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

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

A pitcht field starts up 'twixt my lord and me)

That his throat lies, and he shall curse his fingers195

For being so govern'd by his filthy soule.

Mont. I know not if himselfe will vaunt t'have beene

The princely author of the slavish sinne,

Or any other; he would have resolv'd me,

Had you not come, not by his word, but writing,200

To see the dangerous paper: papers hold205

Oft-times the formes and copies of our soules,

And (though the world despise them) are the prizes

Of all our honors; make your honour then

A hostage for it, and with it conferre

My neerest woman here in all she knowes;210

Who (if the sunne or Cerberus could have seene

Any staine in me) might as well as they.

And, Pero, here I charge thee, by my love,

And all proofes of it (which I might call bounties);

By all that thou hast seene seeme good in mee,215

And all the ill which thou shouldst spit from thee;

By pity of the wound this touch hath given me,

Not as thy mistresse now, but a poore woman

To death given over, rid me of my paines;

Powre on thy powder; cleare thy breast of me.220

My lord is only here: here speak thy worst;

Thy best will doe me mischiefe; if thou spar'st me,

Never shine good thought on thy memory!

Resolve my lord, and leave me desperate.

Per. My lord!—my lord hath plaid a prodigals part,225

To break his stock for nothing, and an insolent,

To cut a Gordian when he could not loose it.

What violence is this, to put true fire

To a false train; to blow up long crown'd peace

With sudden outrage; and beleeve a man,230

Sworne to the shame of women, 'gainst a woman

Borne to their honours? But I will to him.

Tam. No, I will write (for I shall never more

Meet with the fugitive) where I will defie him,

Were he ten times the brother of my King.235

To him, my lord,—and ile to cursing him. Exeunt.

The vicious vertue of his busie sence5

To assume these magick rites, and call up one,10

To know if any have reveal'd unto him

Any thing touching my deare love and me.

Friar. Good sonne, you have amaz'd me but to make

The least doubt of it, it concernes so neerely

The faith and reverence of my name and order.15

Yet will I justifie upon my soule

All I have done;

If any spirit i'th[e] earth or aire

Can give you the resolve, doe not despaire.

Tamyra. Away, deliver it. Exit Pero.

O may my lines, 20

Fill'd with the poyson of a womans hate,

When he shall open them, shrink up his curst eyes

With torturous darknesse, such as stands in hell,

Stuck full of inward horrors, never lighted;

With which are all things to be fear'd, affrighted.25

Buss. How is it with my honour'd mistresse?

Tam. O, servant, help, and save me from the gripes

Of shame and infamy. Our love is knowne;

Your Monsieur hath a paper where is writ

Some secret tokens that decipher it.30

Ventur'd his breast in the consuming reach35

I have put on these exorcising rites,45

Tam. Good father, raise him in some beauteous forme,

That with least terror I may brook his sight.50

Fri. Stand sure together, then, what ere you see,

And stir not, as ye tender all our lives. He puts on his robes.

Behemoth. What would the holy frier?

Fri. I would see

What now the Monsieur and Mountsurrie doe,

And see the secret paper that the Monsieur65

Offer'd to Count Montsurry; longing much

To know on what events the secret loves

Of these two honour'd persons shall arrive.

Beh. Why calledst thou me to this accursed light,

To these light purposes? I am Emperor70

Of that inscrutable darknesse, where are hid

All deepest truths, and secrets never seene,

All which I know; and command legions

Of knowing spirits that can doe more then these.

Any of this my guard that circle me75

In these blew fires, and out of whose dim fumes

Vast murmurs use to break, and from their sounds

Articulat voyces, can doe ten parts more

Than open such sleight truths as you require.

Fri. From the last nights black depth I call'd up one80

Of the inferiour ablest ministers,

And he could not resolve mee. Send one, then,

Out of thine owne command to fetch the paper

That Monsieur hath to shew to Count Montsurry.

Beh. I will. Cartophylax! thou that properly85

Hast in thy power all papers so inscrib'd,

Glide through all barres to it, and fetch that paper.

Cartophylax. I will. A torch removes.

Fri. Till he returnes (great prince of darknesse)

Tell me if Monsieur and the Count Montsurry90

Are yet encounter'd.

Beh. Both them and the Guise

Are now together.

Fri. Show us all their persons,

And represent the place, with all their actions.

Beh. The spirit will strait return, and then Ile shew thee.

See, he is come. Why brought'st thou not the paper?95

When first your acts set forth to their effects.100

Yet shall you see it and themselves. Behold

They come here, & the Earle now holds the paper.