[Scena Tertia.

28a perfect. A, an absolute.

29full. A, whole.

32Yet shall you. A, Why you shall.

38let's. A, let.

40rage. A, rages.

41-43So this . . . and fall. A has instead: So this full creature now shall reele and fall.

44blind borne. A, purblinde.

Enter Montsurry . . . murtherers, and54-59,Away . . . will, my lord. Omitted in A.

A Room in Bussy's House.]

D'Ambois, with two Pages with tapers.

Bussy.Sit up to night, and watch: Ile speak with noneBut the old Frier, who bring to me.Pages.We will, sir.Exeunt.

Bussy.Sit up to night, and watch: Ile speak with noneBut the old Frier, who bring to me.

Bussy.Sit up to night, and watch: Ile speak with none

But the old Frier, who bring to me.

Pages.We will, sir.Exeunt.

Buss.What violent heat is this? me thinks the fireOf twenty lives doth on a suddaine flashThrough all my faculties: the ayre goes high5In this close chamber and the frighted earthThunder.Trembles and shrinks beneath me; the whole houseNods with his shaken burthen.

Buss.What violent heat is this? me thinks the fire

Of twenty lives doth on a suddaine flash

Through all my faculties: the ayre goes high5

In this close chamber and the frighted earthThunder.

Trembles and shrinks beneath me; the whole house

Nods with his shaken burthen.

Enter Umb[ra] Frier.

Blesse me, heaven!Umb[ra Friar].Note what I want, deare sonne, and be fore-warn'd.O there are bloudy deeds past and to come.10I cannot stay; a fate doth ravish me;Ile meet thee in the chamber of thy love.Exit.Buss.What dismall change is here! the good old FrierIs murther'd, being made knowne to serve my love;And now his restlesse spirit would fore-warne me15Of some plot dangerous, and imminent.Note what he wants! He wants his upper weed,He wants his life, and body: which of theseShould be the want he meanes, and may supply meWith any fit fore-warning? This strange vision,20(Together with the dark predictionUs'd by the Prince of Darknesse that was rais'dBy this embodied shadow) stirre my thoughtsWith reminiscion of the Spirits promise,Who told me that by any invocation25I should have power to raise him, though it wantedThe powerfull words and decent rites of art.Never had my set braine such need of spiritT'instruct and cheere it; now then I will claimePerformance of his free and gentle vow30T'appeare in greater light, and make more plainHis rugged oracle. I long to knowHow my deare mistresse fares, and be inform'dWhat hand she now holds on the troubled bloudOf her incensed lord: me thought the Spirit35(When he had utter'd his perplext presage)Threw his chang'd countenance headlong into clouds;His forehead bent, as it would hide his face,He knockt his chin against his darkned breast,And struck a churlish silence through his pow'rs.40Terror of darknesse! O, thou King of flames!That with thy musique-footed horse dost strikeThe cleare light out of chrystall on dark earth,And hurlst instructive fire about the world,Wake, wake, the drowsie and enchanted night45That sleepes with dead eyes in this heavy riddle!Or thou great Prince of Shades, where never sunneStickes his far-darted beames, whose eyes are madeTo shine in darknesse, and see ever bestWhere men are blindest, open now the heart50Of thy abashed oracle, that, for feareOf some ill it includes, would faine lie hid,And rise thou with it in thy greater light!

Blesse me, heaven!

Umb[ra Friar].Note what I want, deare sonne, and be fore-warn'd.O there are bloudy deeds past and to come.10I cannot stay; a fate doth ravish me;Ile meet thee in the chamber of thy love.Exit.

Umb[ra Friar].Note what I want, deare sonne, and be fore-warn'd.

O there are bloudy deeds past and to come.10

I cannot stay; a fate doth ravish me;

Ile meet thee in the chamber of thy love.Exit.

Buss.What dismall change is here! the good old FrierIs murther'd, being made knowne to serve my love;And now his restlesse spirit would fore-warne me15Of some plot dangerous, and imminent.Note what he wants! He wants his upper weed,He wants his life, and body: which of theseShould be the want he meanes, and may supply meWith any fit fore-warning? This strange vision,20(Together with the dark predictionUs'd by the Prince of Darknesse that was rais'dBy this embodied shadow) stirre my thoughtsWith reminiscion of the Spirits promise,Who told me that by any invocation25I should have power to raise him, though it wantedThe powerfull words and decent rites of art.Never had my set braine such need of spiritT'instruct and cheere it; now then I will claimePerformance of his free and gentle vow30T'appeare in greater light, and make more plainHis rugged oracle. I long to knowHow my deare mistresse fares, and be inform'dWhat hand she now holds on the troubled bloudOf her incensed lord: me thought the Spirit35(When he had utter'd his perplext presage)Threw his chang'd countenance headlong into clouds;His forehead bent, as it would hide his face,He knockt his chin against his darkned breast,And struck a churlish silence through his pow'rs.40Terror of darknesse! O, thou King of flames!That with thy musique-footed horse dost strikeThe cleare light out of chrystall on dark earth,And hurlst instructive fire about the world,Wake, wake, the drowsie and enchanted night45That sleepes with dead eyes in this heavy riddle!Or thou great Prince of Shades, where never sunneStickes his far-darted beames, whose eyes are madeTo shine in darknesse, and see ever bestWhere men are blindest, open now the heart50Of thy abashed oracle, that, for feareOf some ill it includes, would faine lie hid,And rise thou with it in thy greater light!

Buss.What dismall change is here! the good old Frier

Is murther'd, being made knowne to serve my love;

And now his restlesse spirit would fore-warne me15

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 meanes, and may supply me

With any fit fore-warning? This strange vision,20

(Together with the dark prediction

Us'd by the Prince of Darknesse that was rais'd

By this embodied shadow) stirre my thoughts

With reminiscion of the Spirits promise,

Who told me that by any invocation25

I should have power to raise him, though it wanted

The powerfull words and decent rites of art.

Never had my set braine such need of spirit

T'instruct and cheere it; now then I will claime

Performance of his free and gentle vow30

T'appeare in greater light, and make more plain

His rugged oracle. I long to know

How my deare mistresse fares, and be inform'd

What hand she now holds on the troubled bloud

Of her incensed lord: me thought the Spirit35

(When he had utter'd his perplext presage)

Threw his chang'd countenance headlong into clouds;

His forehead bent, as it would hide his face,

He knockt his chin against his darkned breast,

And struck a churlish silence through his pow'rs.40

Terror of darknesse! O, thou King of flames!

That with thy musique-footed horse dost strike

The cleare light out of chrystall on dark earth,

And hurlst instructive fire about the world,

Wake, wake, the drowsie and enchanted night45

That sleepes with dead eyes in this heavy riddle!

Or thou great Prince of Shades, where never sunne

Stickes his far-darted beames, whose eyes are made

To shine in darknesse, and see ever best

Where men are blindest, open now the heart50

Of thy abashed oracle, that, for feare

Of some ill it includes, would faine lie hid,

And rise thou with it in thy greater light!

Thunders. Surgit Spiritus cum suis.

Behemoth.Thus, to observe my vow of apparitionIn greater light, and explicate thy fate,55I come; and tell thee that, if thou obeyThe summons that thy mistresse next will send thee,Her hand shall be thy death.Buss.When will she send?Beh.Soone as I set againe, where late I rose.Buss.Is the old Frier slaine?Beh.No, and yet lives not.60Buss.Died he a naturall death?Beh.He did.Buss.Who thenWill my deare mistresse send?Beh.I must not tell thee.Buss.Who lets thee?Beh.Fate.Buss.Who are Fates ministers?Beh.The Guise and Monsieur.Buss.A fit paire of sheeresTo cut the threds of kings and kingly spirits,65And consorts fit to sound forth harmonySet to the fals of kingdomes. Shall the handOf my kind mistresse kill me?Beh.If thou yeeldTo her next summons. Y'are faire warn'd; farewell!Thunders. Exit.Buss.I must fare well, how ever, though I die,70My death consenting with his augurie.Should not my powers obay when she commands,My motion must be rebell to my will,My will to life; if, when I have obay'd,Her hand should so reward me, they must arme it,75Binde me, or force it; or, I lay my life,She rather would convert it many timesOn her owne bosome, even to many deaths.But were there danger of such violence,I know 'tis farre from her intent to send:80And who she should send is as farre from thought,Since he is dead whose only mean she us'd.Knocks.Whose there? Look to the dore, and let him in,Though politick Monsieur, or the violent Guise.

Behemoth.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 mistresse next will send thee,

Her hand shall be thy death.

Buss.When will she send?

Beh.Soone as I set againe, where late I rose.

Buss.Is the old Frier slaine?

Beh.No, and yet lives not.60

Buss.Died he a naturall death?

Beh.He did.

Buss.Who thenWill my deare mistresse send?

Buss.Who then

Will my deare mistresse send?

Beh.I must not tell thee.

Buss.Who lets thee?

Beh.Fate.

Buss.Who are Fates ministers?

Beh.The Guise and Monsieur.

Buss.A fit paire of sheeresTo cut the threds of kings and kingly spirits,65And consorts fit to sound forth harmonySet to the fals of kingdomes. Shall the handOf my kind mistresse kill me?

Buss.A fit paire of sheeres

To cut the threds of kings and kingly spirits,65

And consorts fit to sound forth harmony

Set to the fals of kingdomes. Shall the hand

Of my kind mistresse kill me?

Beh.If thou yeeldTo her next summons. Y'are faire warn'd; farewell!Thunders. Exit.

Beh.If thou yeeld

To her next summons. Y'are faire warn'd; farewell!Thunders. Exit.

Buss.I must fare well, how ever, though I die,70My death consenting with his augurie.Should not my powers obay when she commands,My motion must be rebell to my will,My will to life; if, when I have obay'd,Her hand should so reward me, they must arme it,75Binde me, or force it; or, I lay my life,She rather would convert it many timesOn her owne bosome, even to many deaths.But were there danger of such violence,I know 'tis farre from her intent to send:80And who she should send is as farre from thought,Since he is dead whose only mean she us'd.Knocks.Whose there? Look to the dore, and let him in,Though politick Monsieur, or the violent Guise.

Buss.I must fare well, how ever, though I die,70

My death consenting with his augurie.

Should not my powers obay when she commands,

My motion must be rebell to my will,

My will to life; if, when I have obay'd,

Her hand should so reward me, they must arme it,75

Binde me, or force it; or, I lay my life,

She rather would convert it many times

On her owne bosome, even to many deaths.

But were there danger of such violence,

I know 'tis farre from her intent to send:80

And who she should send is as farre from thought,

Since he is dead whose only mean she us'd.Knocks.

Whose there? Look to the dore, and let him in,

Though politick Monsieur, or the violent Guise.

Enter Montsurry like the Frier, with a letter written in bloud.

Mont.Haile to my worthy sonne!Buss.O lying Spirit,85To say the Frier was dead! Ile now beleeveNothing of all his forg'd predictions.My kinde and honour'd father, well reviv'd!I have beene frighted with your death and mine,And told my mistresse hand should be my death,90If I obeyed this summons.Mont.I beleev'dYour love had bin much clearer then to giveAny such doubt a thought, for she is cleare,And having freed her husbands jealousie(Of which her much abus'd hand here is witnesse)95She prayes, for urgent cause, your instant presence.Buss.Why, then, your Prince of Spirits may be call'dThe Prince of lyers.Mont.Holy Writ so calls him.Buss.What! writ in bloud!Mont.I, 'tis the ink of lovers.Buss.O, 'tis a sacred witnesse of her love.100So much elixer of her bloud as this,Dropt in the lightest dame, would make her firmeAs heat to fire; and, like to all the signes,Commands the life confinde in all my veines.O, how it multiplies my bloud with spirit,105And makes me apt t'encounter death and hell.But come, kinde father; you fetch me to heaven,And to that end your holy weed was given.Exeunt.

Mont.Haile to my worthy sonne!

Buss.O lying Spirit,85To say the Frier was dead! Ile now beleeveNothing of all his forg'd predictions.My kinde and honour'd father, well reviv'd!I have beene frighted with your death and mine,And told my mistresse hand should be my death,90If I obeyed this summons.

Buss.O lying Spirit,85

To say the Frier was dead! Ile now beleeve

Nothing of all his forg'd predictions.

My kinde and honour'd father, well reviv'd!

I have beene frighted with your death and mine,

And told my mistresse hand should be my death,90

If I obeyed this summons.

Mont.I beleev'dYour love had bin much clearer then to giveAny such doubt a thought, for she is cleare,And having freed her husbands jealousie(Of which her much abus'd hand here is witnesse)95She prayes, for urgent cause, your instant presence.

Mont.I beleev'd

Your love had bin much clearer then to give

Any such doubt a thought, for she is cleare,

And having freed her husbands jealousie

(Of which her much abus'd hand here is witnesse)95

She prayes, for urgent cause, your instant presence.

Buss.Why, then, your Prince of Spirits may be call'dThe Prince of lyers.

Buss.Why, then, your Prince of Spirits may be call'd

The Prince of lyers.

Mont.Holy Writ so calls him.

Buss.What! writ in bloud!

Mont.I, 'tis the ink of lovers.

Buss.O, 'tis a sacred witnesse of her love.100So much elixer of her bloud as this,Dropt in the lightest dame, would make her firmeAs heat to fire; and, like to all the signes,Commands the life confinde in all my veines.O, how it multiplies my bloud with spirit,105And makes me apt t'encounter death and hell.But come, kinde father; you fetch me to heaven,And to that end your holy weed was given.Exeunt.

Buss.O, 'tis a sacred witnesse of her love.100

So much elixer of her bloud as this,

Dropt in the lightest dame, would make her firme

As heat to fire; and, like to all the signes,

Commands the life confinde in all my veines.

O, how it multiplies my bloud with spirit,105

And makes me apt t'encounter death and hell.

But come, kinde father; you fetch me to heaven,

And to that end your holy weed was given.Exeunt.

with tapers.A omits.

Thunder.A omits.

8Nods. A, Crackes.

Enter . . . Frier.Placed afterheavenin Qq.

9deare. A, my.

15-16and now . . . imminent. A omits.

17upper. A, utmost.

49shine. A, see.

50men are. A, sense is.

ThundersA omits

Thunders.A omits.

76or. A, and.

with a letter written in bloud.A omits.

85-98O lying Spirit . . . calls him. Omitted in A, which has instead:—Buss.O 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 hand,And praies, for urgent cause, your speediest presence.

85-98O lying Spirit . . . calls him. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

Buss.O 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 hand,And praies, for urgent cause, your speediest presence.

Buss.O lying Spirit: welcome, loved father,How fares my dearest mistresse?

Buss.O 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 hand,And praies, for urgent cause, your speediest presence.

Mont.Well as ever,

Being well as ever thought on by her lord:

Wherof she sends this witnesse in her hand,

And praies, for urgent cause, your speediest presence.

91-92I beleeved . . . give. One line in B.

A Room in Montsurry's House.]

Thunder. Intrat Umbra Frier and discovers Tamyra.

[Umbra] Friar.Up with these stupid thoughts, still loved daughter,And strike away this heartlesse trance of anguish:Be like the sunne, and labour in eclipses.Look to the end of woes: oh, can you sitMustering the horrors of your servants slaughter5Before your contemplation, and not studyHow to prevent it? Watch when he shall rise,And, with a suddaine out-crie of his murther,Blow his retreat before he be revenged.Tamyra.O father, have my dumb woes wak'd your death?10When will our humane griefes be at their height?Man is a tree that hath no top in cares,No root in comforts; all his power to liveIs given to no end but t'have power to grieve.Umb. Fri.It is the misery of our creation.15Your true friend,Led by your husband, shadowed in my weed,Now enters the dark vault.Tam.But, my dearest father,Why will not you appeare to him your selfe,And see that none of these deceits annoy him?20Umb. Fri.My power is limited; alas! I cannot;All that I can doe—See! the cave opens.Exit.

[Umbra] Friar.Up with these stupid thoughts, still loved daughter,

And strike away this heartlesse trance of anguish:

Be like the sunne, and labour in eclipses.

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

Mustering the horrors of your servants slaughter5

Before your contemplation, and not study

How to prevent it? Watch when he shall rise,

And, with a suddaine out-crie of his murther,

Blow his retreat before he be revenged.

Tamyra.O father, have my dumb woes wak'd your death?10When will our humane griefes be at their height?Man is a tree that hath no top in cares,No root in comforts; all his power to liveIs given to no end but t'have power to grieve.

Tamyra.O father, have my dumb woes wak'd your death?10

When will our humane griefes 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.

Umb. Fri.It is the misery of our creation.15Your true friend,Led by your husband, shadowed in my weed,Now enters the dark vault.

Umb. Fri.It is the misery of our creation.15

Your true friend,

Led by your husband, shadowed in my weed,

Now enters the dark vault.

Tam.But, my dearest father,Why will not you appeare to him your selfe,And see that none of these deceits annoy him?20

Tam.But, my dearest father,

Why will not you appeare to him your selfe,

And see that none of these deceits annoy him?20

Umb. Fri.My power is limited; alas! I cannot;All that I can doe—See! the cave opens.Exit.

Umb. Fri.My power is limited; alas! I cannot;

All that I can doe—See! the cave opens.Exit.

D'Amboys at the gulfe.

Tam.Away (my love) away! thou wilt be murther'd.

Enter Monsieur and Guise above.

Bussy.Murther'd! I know not what that Hebrew means:That word had ne're bin nam'd had all bin D'Ambois.25Murther'd! By heaven, he is my murthererThat shewes me not a murtherer: what such buggeAbhorreth not the very sleepe of D'Amboys?Murther'd! Who dares give all the room I seeTo D'Ambois reach? or look with any odds30His fight i'th' face, upon whose hand sits death,Whose sword hath wings, and every feather pierceth?If I scape Monsieurs pothecarie shops,Foutir for Guises shambles! 'Twas ill plotted;They should have mall'd me here35When I was rising. I am up and ready.Let in my politique visitants, let them in,Though entring like so many moving armours.Fate is more strong than arms and slie than treason,And I at all parts buckl'd in my fate.40Mons.}Guise.} Why enter not the coward villains?Buss.Dare they not come?

Bussy.Murther'd! I know not what that Hebrew means:

That word had ne're bin nam'd had all bin D'Ambois.25

Murther'd! By heaven, he is my murtherer

That shewes me not a murtherer: what such bugge

Abhorreth not the very sleepe of D'Amboys?

Murther'd! Who dares give all the room I see

To D'Ambois reach? or look with any odds30

His fight i'th' face, upon whose hand sits death,

Whose sword hath wings, and every feather pierceth?

If I scape Monsieurs pothecarie shops,

Foutir for Guises shambles! 'Twas ill plotted;

They should have mall'd me here35

When I was rising. I am up and ready.

Let in my politique visitants, let them in,

Though entring like so many moving armours.

Fate is more strong than arms and slie than treason,

And I at all parts buckl'd in my fate.40

Mons.}Guise.} Why enter not the coward villains?

Mons.}

Guise.} Why enter not the coward villains?

Buss.Dare they not come?

Enter Murtherers, with [Umbra] Frier at the other dore.

Tam.They come.First Murderer.Come, all at once![Umbra] Friar.Back, coward murtherers, back!Omnes.Defend us heaven!Exeunt all but the first.

Tam.They come.

First Murderer.Come, all at once!

[Umbra] Friar.Back, coward murtherers, back!

Omnes.Defend us heaven!Exeunt all but the first.

First Murd.Come ye not on?Buss.No, slave! nor goest thou off.Stand you so firme?

First Murd.Come ye not on?

Buss.No, slave! nor goest thou off.Stand you so firme?

Buss.No, slave! nor goest thou off.

Stand you so firme?

[Strikes at him with his sword.]

Will it not enter here?45You have a face yet. So! in thy lifes flameI burne the first rites to my mistresse fame.Umb. Fri.Breath thee, brave sonne, against the other charge.Buss.O is it true, then, that my sense first told me?Is my kind father dead?Tam.He is, my love;50'Twas the Earle, my husband, in his weed that brought thee.Buss.That was a speeding sleight, and well resembled.Where is that angry Earle? My lord! come forth,And shew your owne face in your owne affaire;Take not into your noble veines the blood55Of these base villaines, nor the light reportsOf blister'd tongues for cleare and weighty truth:But me against the world, in pure defenceOf your rare lady, to whose spotlesse nameI stand here as a bulwark, and project60A life to her renowne that ever yetHath been untainted, even in envies eye,And, where it would protect, a sanctuarie.Brave Earle, come forth, and keep your scandall in!'Tis not our fault, if you enforce the spot;65Nor the wreak yours, if you performe it not.

Will it not enter here?45You have a face yet. So! in thy lifes flameI burne the first rites to my mistresse fame.

Will it not enter here?45

You have a face yet. So! in thy lifes flame

I burne the first rites to my mistresse fame.

Umb. Fri.Breath thee, brave sonne, against the other charge.

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

Buss.O is it true, then, that my sense first told me?

Is my kind father dead?

Tam.He is, my love;50'Twas the Earle, my husband, in his weed that brought thee.

Tam.He is, my love;50

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

Buss.That was a speeding sleight, and well resembled.Where is that angry Earle? My lord! come forth,And shew your owne face in your owne affaire;Take not into your noble veines the blood55Of these base villaines, nor the light reportsOf blister'd tongues for cleare and weighty truth:But me against the world, in pure defenceOf your rare lady, to whose spotlesse nameI stand here as a bulwark, and project60A life to her renowne that ever yetHath been untainted, even in envies eye,And, where it would protect, a sanctuarie.Brave Earle, come forth, and keep your scandall in!'Tis not our fault, if you enforce the spot;65Nor the wreak yours, if you performe it not.

Buss.That was a speeding sleight, and well resembled.

Where is that angry Earle? My lord! come forth,

And shew your owne face in your owne affaire;

Take not into your noble veines the blood55

Of these base villaines, nor the light reports

Of blister'd tongues for cleare and weighty truth:

But me against the world, in pure defence

Of your rare lady, to whose spotlesse name

I stand here as a bulwark, and project60

A life to her renowne that ever yet

Hath been untainted, even in envies eye,

And, where it would protect, a sanctuarie.

Brave Earle, come forth, and keep your scandall in!

'Tis not our fault, if you enforce the spot;65

Nor the wreak yours, if you performe it not.

Enter Mont[surry] with all the murtherers.

Montsurry.Cowards! a fiend or spirit beat ye off!They are your owne faint spirits that have forg'dThe fearefull shadowes that your eyes deluded:The fiend was in you; cast him out, then, thus!70

Montsurry.Cowards! a fiend or spirit beat ye off!

They are your owne faint spirits that have forg'd

The fearefull shadowes that your eyes deluded:

The fiend was in you; cast him out, then, thus!70

[Montsurry fights with D'Ambois.]D'Ambois hath Montsurry downe.

Tam.Favour my lord, my love, O, favour him!Buss.I will not touch him. Take your life, my lord,And be appeas'd.Pistolls shot within.O then the coward FatesHave maim'd themselves, and ever lost their honour!Umb. Fri.What have ye done, slaves! irreligious lord!75Buss.Forbeare them, father; 'tis enough for meThat Guise and Monsieur, death and destinie,Come behind D'Ambois. Is my body, then,But penetrable flesh, and must my mindFollow my blood? Can my divine part adde80No ayd to th'earthly in extremity?Then these divines are but for forme, not fact;Man is of two sweet courtly friends compact,A mistresse and a servant. Let my deathDefine life nothing but a courtiers breath.85Nothing is made of nought, of all things madeTheir abstract being a dreame but of a shade.Ile not complaine to earth yet, but to heaven,And (like a man) look upwards even in death.And if Vespasian thought in majestie90An Emperour 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 groomes.Prop me, true sword, as thou hast ever done!The equall thought I beare of life and death95Shall make me faint on no side; I am up.Here, like a Roman statue, I will standTill death hath made me marble. O my fameLive in despight of murther! take thy wingsAnd haste thee where the gray-ey'd morn perfumes100Her rosie chariot with Sabæan spices!Fly where the evening from th'Iberean valesTakes on her swarthy shoulders HeccateCrown'd with a grove of oakes! flie where men feeleThe burning axeltree; and those that suffer105Beneath the chariot of the snowy Beare:And tell them all that D'Ambois now is hastingTo the eternall dwellers; that a thunderOf all their sighes together (for their frailtiesBeheld in me) may quit my worthlesse fall110With a fit volley for my funerall.Umb. Fri.Forgive thy murtherers.Buss.I forgive them all;And you, my lord, their fautor; for true signeOf which unfain'd remission, take my sword;Take it, and onely give it motion,115And it shall finde the way to victoryBy his owne brightnesse, and th'inherent valourMy fight hath still'd into't with charmes of spirit.Now let me pray you that my weighty bloud,Laid in one scale of your impertiall spleene,120May sway the forfeit of my worthy loveWaid in the other: and be reconcil'dWith all forgivenesse to your matchlesse wife.Tam.Forgive thou me, deare servant, and this handThat lead thy life to this unworthy end;125Forgive it for the bloud 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 bosome, and by thisThat makes me hold up both my hands embrew'd130For thy deare pardon.Buss.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 prodigie.My sunne is turn'd to blood, in whose red beams135Pindus and Ossa (hid in drifts of snowLaid on my heart and liver), from their veinesMelt, like two hungry torrents eating rocks,Into the ocean of all humane life,And make it bitter, only with my bloud.140O fraile condition of strength, valour, vertueIn me (like warning fire upon the topOf some steepe beacon, on a steeper hill)Made to expresse it: like a falling starreSilently glanc't, that like a thunderbolt145Look't to have struck, and shook the firmament!Moritur.

Tam.Favour my lord, my love, O, favour him!

Buss.I will not touch him. Take your life, my lord,And be appeas'd.Pistolls shot within.O then the coward FatesHave maim'd themselves, and ever lost their honour!

Buss.I will not touch him. Take your life, my lord,

And be appeas'd.Pistolls shot within.

O then the coward Fates

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

Umb. Fri.What have ye done, slaves! irreligious lord!75

Buss.Forbeare them, father; 'tis enough for meThat Guise and Monsieur, death and destinie,Come behind D'Ambois. Is my body, then,But penetrable flesh, and must my mindFollow my blood? Can my divine part adde80No ayd to th'earthly in extremity?Then these divines are but for forme, not fact;Man is of two sweet courtly friends compact,A mistresse and a servant. Let my deathDefine life nothing but a courtiers breath.85Nothing is made of nought, of all things madeTheir abstract being a dreame but of a shade.Ile not complaine to earth yet, but to heaven,And (like a man) look upwards even in death.And if Vespasian thought in majestie90An Emperour 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 groomes.Prop me, true sword, as thou hast ever done!The equall thought I beare of life and death95Shall make me faint on no side; I am up.Here, like a Roman statue, I will standTill death hath made me marble. O my fameLive in despight of murther! take thy wingsAnd haste thee where the gray-ey'd morn perfumes100Her rosie chariot with Sabæan spices!Fly where the evening from th'Iberean valesTakes on her swarthy shoulders HeccateCrown'd with a grove of oakes! flie where men feeleThe burning axeltree; and those that suffer105Beneath the chariot of the snowy Beare:And tell them all that D'Ambois now is hastingTo the eternall dwellers; that a thunderOf all their sighes together (for their frailtiesBeheld in me) may quit my worthlesse fall110With a fit volley for my funerall.

Buss.Forbeare them, father; 'tis enough for me

That Guise and Monsieur, death and destinie,

Come behind D'Ambois. Is my body, then,

But penetrable flesh, and must my mind

Follow my blood? Can my divine part adde80

No ayd to th'earthly in extremity?

Then these divines are but for forme, not fact;

Man is of two sweet courtly friends compact,

A mistresse and a servant. Let my death

Define life nothing but a courtiers breath.85

Nothing is made of nought, of all things made

Their abstract being a dreame but of a shade.

Ile not complaine to earth yet, but to heaven,

And (like a man) look upwards even in death.

And if Vespasian thought in majestie90

An Emperour 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 groomes.

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

The equall thought I beare of life and death95

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

Here, like a Roman statue, I will stand

Till death hath made me marble. O my fame

Live in despight of murther! take thy wings

And haste thee where the gray-ey'd morn perfumes100

Her rosie chariot with Sabæan spices!

Fly where the evening from th'Iberean vales

Takes on her swarthy shoulders Heccate

Crown'd with a grove of oakes! flie where men feele

The burning axeltree; and those that suffer105

Beneath the chariot of the snowy Beare:

And tell them all that D'Ambois now is hasting

To the eternall dwellers; that a thunder

Of all their sighes together (for their frailties

Beheld in me) may quit my worthlesse fall110

With a fit volley for my funerall.

Umb. Fri.Forgive thy murtherers.

Buss.I forgive them all;And you, my lord, their fautor; for true signeOf which unfain'd remission, take my sword;Take it, and onely give it motion,115And it shall finde the way to victoryBy his owne brightnesse, and th'inherent valourMy fight hath still'd into't with charmes of spirit.Now let me pray you that my weighty bloud,Laid in one scale of your impertiall spleene,120May sway the forfeit of my worthy loveWaid in the other: and be reconcil'dWith all forgivenesse to your matchlesse wife.

Buss.I forgive them all;

And you, my lord, their fautor; for true signe

Of which unfain'd remission, take my sword;

Take it, and onely give it motion,115

And it shall finde the way to victory

By his owne brightnesse, and th'inherent valour

My fight hath still'd into't with charmes of spirit.

Now let me pray you that my weighty bloud,

Laid in one scale of your impertiall spleene,120

May sway the forfeit of my worthy love

Waid in the other: and be reconcil'd

With all forgivenesse to your matchlesse wife.

Tam.Forgive thou me, deare servant, and this handThat lead thy life to this unworthy end;125Forgive it for the bloud 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 bosome, and by thisThat makes me hold up both my hands embrew'd130For thy deare pardon.

Tam.Forgive thou me, deare servant, and this hand

That lead thy life to this unworthy end;125

Forgive it for the bloud 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 bosome, and by this

That makes me hold up both my hands embrew'd130

For thy deare pardon.

Buss.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 prodigie.My sunne is turn'd to blood, in whose red beams135Pindus and Ossa (hid in drifts of snowLaid on my heart and liver), from their veinesMelt, like two hungry torrents eating rocks,Into the ocean of all humane life,And make it bitter, only with my bloud.140O fraile condition of strength, valour, vertueIn me (like warning fire upon the topOf some steepe beacon, on a steeper hill)Made to expresse it: like a falling starreSilently glanc't, that like a thunderbolt145Look't to have struck, and shook the firmament!Moritur.

Buss.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 prodigie.

My sunne is turn'd to blood, in whose red beams135

Pindus and Ossa (hid in drifts of snow

Laid on my heart and liver), from their veines

Melt, like two hungry torrents eating rocks,

Into the ocean of all humane life,

And make it bitter, only with my bloud.140

O fraile condition of strength, valour, vertue

In me (like warning fire upon the top

Of some steepe beacon, on a steeper hill)

Made to expresse it: like a falling starre

Silently glanc't, that like a thunderbolt145

Look't to have struck, and shook the firmament!Moritur.

Umb. Fri.Farewell! brave reliques of a compleat man,Look up, and see thy spirit made a starre.Joine flames with Hercules, and when thou set'stThy radiant forehead in the firmament,150Make the vast chrystall crack with thy receipt;Spread to a world of fire, and the aged skieCheere with new sparks of old humanity.[To Montsurry.] Son of the earth, whom my unrested souleRues t'have begotten in the faith of heaven,155Assay to gratulate and pacifieThe soule fled from this worthy by performingThe Christian reconcilement he besoughtBetwixt thee and thy lady; let her wounds,Manlessly digg'd in her, be eas'd and cur'd160With balme of thine owne teares; or be assur'dNever 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!Umb. Fri.Remove, deare daughter, and content thy husband:165So piety wills thee, and thy servants peace.Tam.O wretched piety, that art so distractIn thine owne constancie, and in thy rightMust be unrighteous. If I right my friend,I wrong my husband; if his wrong I shunne,170The duty of my friend I leave undone.Ill playes on both sides; here and there it riseth;No place, no good, so good, but ill compriseth.O had I never married but for forme;Never vow'd faith but purpos'd to deceive;175Never made conscience of any sinne,But clok't it privately and made it common;Nor never honour'd beene in bloud or mind;Happy had I beene then, as others areOf the like licence; I had then beene honour'd,180Liv'd without envie; custome had benumb'dAll sense of scruple and all note of frailty;My fame had beene untouch'd, my heart unbroken:But (shunning all) I strike on all offence.O husband! deare friend! O my conscience!185Mons.Come, let's away; my sences are not proofeAgainst those plaints.

Umb. Fri.Farewell! brave reliques of a compleat man,

Look up, and see thy spirit made a starre.

Joine flames with Hercules, and when thou set'st

Thy radiant forehead in the firmament,150

Make the vast chrystall crack with thy receipt;

Spread to a world of fire, and the aged skie

Cheere with new sparks of old humanity.

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

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

Assay to gratulate and pacifie

The soule 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'd160

With balme of thine owne teares; 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!

Mont.See how she merits this, still kneeling by,

And mourning his fall, more than her own fault!

Umb. Fri.Remove, deare daughter, and content thy husband:165So piety wills thee, and thy servants peace.

Umb. Fri.Remove, deare daughter, and content thy husband:165

So piety wills thee, and thy servants peace.

Tam.O wretched piety, that art so distractIn thine owne constancie, and in thy rightMust be unrighteous. If I right my friend,I wrong my husband; if his wrong I shunne,170The duty of my friend I leave undone.Ill playes on both sides; here and there it riseth;No place, no good, so good, but ill compriseth.O had I never married but for forme;Never vow'd faith but purpos'd to deceive;175Never made conscience of any sinne,But clok't it privately and made it common;Nor never honour'd beene in bloud or mind;Happy had I beene then, as others areOf the like licence; I had then beene honour'd,180Liv'd without envie; custome had benumb'dAll sense of scruple and all note of frailty;My fame had beene untouch'd, my heart unbroken:But (shunning all) I strike on all offence.O husband! deare friend! O my conscience!185

Tam.O wretched piety, that art so distract

In thine owne constancie, and in thy right

Must be unrighteous. If I right my friend,

I wrong my husband; if his wrong I shunne,170

The duty of my friend I leave undone.

Ill playes on both sides; here and there it riseth;

No place, no good, so good, but ill compriseth.

O had I never married but for forme;

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

Never made conscience of any sinne,

But clok't it privately and made it common;

Nor never honour'd beene in bloud or mind;

Happy had I beene then, as others are

Of the like licence; I had then beene honour'd,180

Liv'd without envie; custome had benumb'd

All sense of scruple and all note of frailty;

My fame had beene untouch'd, my heart unbroken:

But (shunning all) I strike on all offence.

O husband! deare friend! O my conscience!185

Mons.Come, let's away; my sences are not proofeAgainst those plaints.

Mons.Come, let's away; my sences are not proofe

Against those plaints.

Exeunt Guise, Mon[sieur above]. D'Ambois is borne off.

Mont.I must not yeeld to pity, nor to loveSo servile and so trayterous: cease, my bloud,To wrastle with my honour, fame, and judgement.190Away! forsake my house; forbeare complaintsWhere thou hast bred them: here all things [are] fullOf their owne shame and sorrow—leave my house.Tam.Sweet lord, forgive me, and I will be gone;And till these wounds (that never balme shall close195Till death hath enterd at them, so I love them,Being opened by your hands) by death be cur'd,I never more will grieve you with my sight;Never endure that any roofe shall partMine eyes and heaven; but to the open deserts200(Like to a hunted tygres) I will flie,Eating my heart, shunning the steps of men,And look on no side till I be arriv'd.Mont.I doe forgive thee, and upon my knees(With hands held up to heaven) wish that mine honour205Would suffer reconcilement to my love:But, since it will not, honour never serveMy love with flourishing object, till it sterve!And as this taper, though it upwards look,Downwards must needs consume, so let our love!210As, having lost his hony, the sweet tasteRunnes into savour, and will needs retaineA 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 up215It keepes his luster, but being thus turn'd downe(His naturall course of usefull light inverted)His owne stuffe puts it out, so let our love!Now turne from me, as here I turne from thee;And may both points of heavens strait axeltree220Conjoyne in one, before thy selfe and me!Exeunt severally.

Mont.I must not yeeld to pity, nor to love

So servile and so trayterous: cease, my bloud,

To wrastle with my honour, fame, and judgement.190

Away! forsake my house; forbeare complaints

Where thou hast bred them: here all things [are] full

Of their owne shame and sorrow—leave my house.

Tam.Sweet lord, forgive me, and I will be gone;And till these wounds (that never balme shall close195Till death hath enterd at them, so I love them,Being opened by your hands) by death be cur'd,I never more will grieve you with my sight;Never endure that any roofe shall partMine eyes and heaven; but to the open deserts200(Like to a hunted tygres) I will flie,Eating my heart, shunning the steps of men,And look on no side till I be arriv'd.

Tam.Sweet lord, forgive me, and I will be gone;

And till these wounds (that never balme shall close195

Till death hath enterd at them, so I love them,

Being opened by your hands) by death be cur'd,

I never more will grieve you with my sight;

Never endure that any roofe shall part

Mine eyes and heaven; but to the open deserts200

(Like to a hunted tygres) I will flie,

Eating my heart, shunning the steps of men,

And look on no side till I be arriv'd.

Mont.I doe forgive thee, and upon my knees(With hands held up to heaven) wish that mine honour205Would suffer reconcilement to my love:But, since it will not, honour never serveMy love with flourishing object, till it sterve!And as this taper, though it upwards look,Downwards must needs consume, so let our love!210As, having lost his hony, the sweet tasteRunnes into savour, and will needs retaineA 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 up215It keepes his luster, but being thus turn'd downe(His naturall course of usefull light inverted)His owne stuffe puts it out, so let our love!Now turne from me, as here I turne from thee;And may both points of heavens strait axeltree220Conjoyne in one, before thy selfe and me!Exeunt severally.

Mont.I doe forgive thee, and upon my knees

(With hands held up to heaven) wish that mine honour205

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 hony, the sweet taste

Runnes into savour, and will needs retaine

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 up215

It keepes his luster, but being thus turn'd downe

(His naturall course of usefull light inverted)

His owne stuffe puts it out, so let our love!

Now turne from me, as here I turne from thee;

And may both points of heavens strait axeltree220

Conjoyne in one, before thy selfe and me!Exeunt severally.

Finis Actus Quinti & Ultimi.

Thunder . . . Tamyra.A has:Intrat umbra Comolet to the Countesse, wrapt in a canapie.

1-6Up . . . not study. Omitted in A, which has instead:—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.

1-6Up . . . not study. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

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.

9revenged. A, engaged.

14t'have. A; B, have.

15-22It is . . . opens. Omitted in A, which has instead:—Umb.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 allHe sees inevitable; he the smallThat carps at earth, and her foundation shaker,And rather than himselfe, will mend his maker.

15-22It is . . . opens. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

Umb.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 allHe sees inevitable; he the smallThat carps at earth, and her foundation shaker,And rather than himselfe, will mend his maker.

16Your . . . friend. In B ends preceding line.

Enter . . . above.A omits.

30To. Some copies of B have T.

33-36If I . . . and ready. A omits.

41Why . . . villains? A omits.

Enter . . . dore.A omits.

all but the first.A omits.

53Qq punctuate wrongly:—Where is that angry Earle my lord? Come forth.

all the murtherers.A, others.

D'Ambois . . . downe.A omits.

Pistolls shot within.Inserted before 72 in B; A omits.

90-93And if . . . groomes. A omits.

She offers to help him.Inserted before 95 in B. A omits.

119Now. A, And.

135in. A, gainst.

136drifts of. A, endless.

146struck. Emend. ed.; Qq, stuck.

Moritur.A omits.

147-153Farewell . . . humanity. These lines are placed by A at the close of the Scene, and are preceded by three lines which B omits:—My terrors are strook inward, and no moreMy pennance will allow they shall enforceEarthly afflictions but upon my selfe.

147-153Farewell . . . humanity. These lines are placed by A at the close of the Scene, and are preceded by three lines which B omits:—

My terrors are strook inward, and no moreMy pennance will allow they shall enforceEarthly afflictions but upon my selfe.

147reliques. A, relicts.

149Joine flames with Hercules. So in A; B, Jove flames with her rules.

151chrystall. A, continent.

154Son . . . soule. Before this line B hasFrier.

155Rues . . . heaven. After this line A inserts:—Since thy revengefull spirit hath rejectedThe charitie it commands, and the remissionTo serve and worship the blind rage of bloud.

155Rues . . . heaven. After this line A inserts:—

Since thy revengefull spirit hath rejectedThe charitie it commands, and the remissionTo serve and worship the blind rage of bloud.

163kneeling. A, sitting.

173No place . . . compriseth. After this line A inserts:—My soule more scruple breeds than my bloud sinne,Vertue imposeth more than any stepdame.

173No place . . . compriseth. After this line A inserts:—

My soule more scruple breeds than my bloud sinne,Vertue imposeth more than any stepdame.

186-187Come . . . plaints. A omits.

192[are]. Added by Dilke; Qq omit.

196enterd. A; B, enterr'd.

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