Actus Quinti Scena Prima.

Buss.May we not heare them?[Fri.]No, be still and see.Buss.I will goe fetch the paper.Fri.Doe not stirre.There's too much distance, and too many locks105Twixt you and them (how neere so e're they seeme)For any man to interrupt their secrets.Tam.O honour'd spirit, flie into the fancieOf my offended lord; and doe not let himBeleeve what there the wicked man hath written.110Beh.Perswasion hath already enter'd himBeyond reflection; peace, till their departure!Monsieur.There is a glasse of ink where you may seeHow to make ready black fac'd tragedy:You now discerne, I hope, through all her paintings,115Her gasping wrinkles and fames sepulchres.Guise.Think you he faines, my lord? what hold you now?Doe we maligne your wife, or honour you?Mons.What, stricken dumb! Nay fie, lord, be not danted:Your case is common; were it ne're so rare,120Beare it as rarely! Now to laugh were manly.A worthy man should imitate the weather,That sings in tempests, and being cleare, is silent.Gui.Goe home, my lord, and force your wife to writeSuch loving lines to D'Ambois as she us'd125When she desir'd his presence.Mons.Doe, my lord,And make her name her conceal'd messenger,That close and most inennerable pander,That passeth all our studies to exquire:By whom convay the letter to her love;130And so you shall be sure to have him comeWithin the thirsty reach of your revenge.Before which, lodge an ambush in her chamber,Behind the arras, of your stoutest menAll close and soundly arm'd; and let them share135A spirit amongst them that would serve a thousand.

Buss.May we not heare them?

[Fri.]No, be still and see.

Buss.I will goe fetch the paper.

Fri.Doe not stirre.There's too much distance, and too many locks105Twixt you and them (how neere so e're they seeme)For any man to interrupt their secrets.

Fri.Doe not stirre.

There's too much distance, and too many locks105

Twixt you and them (how neere so e're they seeme)

For any man to interrupt their secrets.

Tam.O honour'd spirit, flie into the fancieOf my offended lord; and doe not let himBeleeve what there the wicked man hath written.110

Tam.O honour'd spirit, flie into the fancie

Of my offended lord; and doe not let him

Beleeve what there the wicked man hath written.110

Beh.Perswasion hath already enter'd himBeyond reflection; peace, till their departure!

Beh.Perswasion hath already enter'd him

Beyond reflection; peace, till their departure!

Monsieur.There is a glasse of ink where you may seeHow to make ready black fac'd tragedy:You now discerne, I hope, through all her paintings,115Her gasping wrinkles and fames sepulchres.

Monsieur.There is a glasse of ink where you may see

How to make ready black fac'd tragedy:

You now discerne, I hope, through all her paintings,115

Her gasping wrinkles and fames sepulchres.

Guise.Think you he faines, my lord? what hold you now?Doe we maligne your wife, or honour you?

Guise.Think you he faines, my lord? what hold you now?

Doe we maligne your wife, or honour you?

Mons.What, stricken dumb! Nay fie, lord, be not danted:Your case is common; were it ne're so rare,120Beare it as rarely! Now to laugh were manly.A worthy man should imitate the weather,That sings in tempests, and being cleare, is silent.

Mons.What, stricken dumb! Nay fie, lord, be not danted:

Your case is common; were it ne're so rare,120

Beare it as rarely! Now to laugh were manly.

A worthy man should imitate the weather,

That sings in tempests, and being cleare, is silent.

Gui.Goe home, my lord, and force your wife to writeSuch loving lines to D'Ambois as she us'd125When she desir'd his presence.

Gui.Goe home, my lord, and force your wife to write

Such loving lines to D'Ambois as she us'd125

When she desir'd his presence.

Mons.Doe, my lord,And make her name her conceal'd messenger,That close and most inennerable pander,That passeth all our studies to exquire:By whom convay the letter to her love;130And so you shall be sure to have him comeWithin the thirsty reach of your revenge.Before which, lodge an ambush in her chamber,Behind the arras, of your stoutest menAll close and soundly arm'd; and let them share135A spirit amongst them that would serve a thousand.

Mons.Doe, my lord,

And make her name her conceal'd messenger,

That close and most inennerable pander,

That passeth all our studies to exquire:

By whom convay the letter to her love;130

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

All close and soundly arm'd; and let them share135

A spirit amongst them that would serve a thousand.

Enter Pero with a letter.

Gui.Yet, stay a little: see, she sends for you.Mons.Poore, loving lady, she'le make all good yet;Think you not so, my lord?Mont[surry] stabs Pero, and exit.

Gui.Yet, stay a little: see, she sends for you.

Mons.Poore, loving lady, she'le make all good yet;Think you not so, my lord?Mont[surry] stabs Pero, and exit.

Mons.Poore, loving lady, she'le make all good yet;

Think you not so, my lord?Mont[surry] stabs Pero, and exit.

Gui.Alas, poore soule!Mons.This was cruelly done, y'faith.Pero.T'was nobly done;140And I forgive his lordship from my soule.Mons.Then much good doo't thee, Pero! hast a letter?Per.I hope it rather be a bitter volumeOf worthy curses for your perjury.Gui.To you, my lord.Mons.To me? Now out upon her!145Gui.Let me see, my lord.Mons.You shall presently: how fares my Pero?Enter Servant.Who's there? Take in this maid, sh'as caught a clap,And fetch my surgeon to her. Come, my lord,We'l now peruse our letter.Exeunt Mons[ieur], Guise. Lead her out.

Gui.Alas, poore soule!

Mons.This was cruelly done, y'faith.

Pero.T'was nobly done;140And I forgive his lordship from my soule.

Pero.T'was nobly done;140

And I forgive his lordship from my soule.

Mons.Then much good doo't thee, Pero! hast a letter?

Per.I hope it rather be a bitter volumeOf worthy curses for your perjury.

Per.I hope it rather be a bitter volume

Of worthy curses for your perjury.

Gui.To you, my lord.

Mons.To me? Now out upon her!145

Gui.Let me see, my lord.

Mons.You shall presently: how fares my Pero?Enter Servant.Who's there? Take in this maid, sh'as caught a clap,And fetch my surgeon to her. Come, my lord,We'l now peruse our letter.Exeunt Mons[ieur], Guise. Lead her out.

Mons.You shall presently: how fares my Pero?Enter Servant.

Who's there? Take in this maid, sh'as caught a clap,

And fetch my surgeon to her. Come, my lord,

We'l now peruse our letter.Exeunt Mons[ieur], Guise. Lead her out.

Per.Furies rise150Out of the black lines, and torment his soule!

Per.Furies rise150

Out of the black lines, and torment his soule!

Tam.Hath my lord slaine my woman?Beh.No, she lives.Fri.What shall become of us?Beh.All I can say,Being call'd thus late, is briefe, and darkly this:—If D'Ambois mistresse die not her white hand155In her forc'd bloud, he shall remaine untoucht:So, father, shall your selfe, but by your selfe.To make this augurie plainer, when the voyceOf D'Amboys shall invoke me, I will riseShining in greater light, and shew him all160That will betide ye all. Meane time be wise,And curb his valour with your policies.Descendit cum suis.

Tam.Hath my lord slaine my woman?

Beh.No, she lives.

Fri.What shall become of us?

Beh.All I can say,Being call'd thus late, is briefe, and darkly this:—If D'Ambois mistresse die not her white hand155In her forc'd bloud, he shall remaine untoucht:So, father, shall your selfe, but by your selfe.To make this augurie plainer, when the voyceOf D'Amboys shall invoke me, I will riseShining in greater light, and shew him all160That will betide ye all. Meane time be wise,And curb his valour with your policies.Descendit cum suis.

Beh.All I can say,

Being call'd thus late, is briefe, and darkly this:—

If D'Ambois mistresse die not her white hand155

In her forc'd bloud, he shall remaine untoucht:

So, father, shall your selfe, but by your selfe.

To make this augurie plainer, when the voyce

Of D'Amboys shall invoke me, I will rise

Shining in greater light, and shew him all160

That will betide ye all. Meane time be wise,

And curb his valour with your policies.Descendit cum suis.

Buss.Will he appeare to me when I invoke him?Fri.He will, be sure.Buss.It must be shortly, then,For his dark words have tyed my thoughts on knots165Till he dissolve and free them.Tam.In meane time,Deare servant, till your powerfull voice revoke him,Be sure to use the policy he advis'd;Lest fury in your too quick knowledge takenOf our abuse, and your defence of me,170Accuse me more than any enemy.And, father, you must on my lord imposeYour holiest charges, and the Churches power,To temper his hot spirit, and disperseThe cruelty and the bloud I know his hand175Will showre upon our heads, if you put notYour finger to the storme, and hold it up,As my deare servant here must doe with Monsieur.Buss.Ile sooth his plots, and strow my hate with smiles,Till all at once the close mines of my heart180Rise at full date, and rush into his bloud:Ile bind his arme in silk, and rub his fleshTo make the veine swell, that his soule may gushInto some kennell where it longs to lie;And policy shall be flanckt with policy.185Yet shall the feeling Center where we meetGroane with the wait of my approaching feet:Ile make th'inspired threshals of his CourtSweat with the weather of my horrid steps,Before I enter: yet will I appeare190Like calme security before a ruine.A politician must, like lightning, meltThe very marrow, and not taint the skin:His wayes must not be seene; the superficiesOf the greene Center must not taste his feet,195When hell is plow'd up with his wounding tracts,And all his harvest reap't by hellish facts.Exeunt.

Buss.Will he appeare to me when I invoke him?

Fri.He will, be sure.

Buss.It must be shortly, then,For his dark words have tyed my thoughts on knots165Till he dissolve and free them.

Buss.It must be shortly, then,

For his dark words have tyed my thoughts on knots165

Till he dissolve and free them.

Tam.In meane time,Deare servant, till your powerfull voice revoke him,Be sure to use the policy he advis'd;Lest fury in your too quick knowledge takenOf our abuse, and your defence of me,170Accuse me more than any enemy.And, father, you must on my lord imposeYour holiest charges, and the Churches power,To temper his hot spirit, and disperseThe cruelty and the bloud I know his hand175Will showre upon our heads, if you put notYour finger to the storme, and hold it up,As my deare servant here must doe with Monsieur.

Tam.In meane time,

Deare servant, till your powerfull voice revoke him,

Be sure to use the policy he advis'd;

Lest fury in your too quick knowledge taken

Of our abuse, and your defence of me,170

Accuse me more than any enemy.

And, father, you must on my lord impose

Your holiest charges, and the Churches power,

To temper his hot spirit, and disperse

The cruelty and the bloud I know his hand175

Will showre upon our heads, if you put not

Your finger to the storme, and hold it up,

As my deare servant here must doe with Monsieur.

Buss.Ile sooth his plots, and strow my hate with smiles,Till all at once the close mines of my heart180Rise at full date, and rush into his bloud:Ile bind his arme in silk, and rub his fleshTo make the veine swell, that his soule may gushInto some kennell where it longs to lie;And policy shall be flanckt with policy.185Yet shall the feeling Center where we meetGroane with the wait of my approaching feet:Ile make th'inspired threshals of his CourtSweat with the weather of my horrid steps,Before I enter: yet will I appeare190Like calme security before a ruine.A politician must, like lightning, meltThe very marrow, and not taint the skin:His wayes must not be seene; the superficiesOf the greene Center must not taste his feet,195When hell is plow'd up with his wounding tracts,And all his harvest reap't by hellish facts.Exeunt.

Buss.Ile sooth his plots, and strow my hate with smiles,

Till all at once the close mines of my heart180

Rise at full date, and rush into his bloud:

Ile bind his arme in silk, and rub his flesh

To make the veine swell, that his soule may gush

Into some kennell where it longs to lie;

And policy shall be flanckt with policy.185

Yet shall the feeling Center where we meet

Groane with the wait of my approaching feet:

Ile make th'inspired threshals of his Court

Sweat with the weather of my horrid steps,

Before I enter: yet will I appeare190

Like calme security before a ruine.

A politician must, like lightning, melt

The very marrow, and not taint the skin:

His wayes must not be seene; the superficies

Of the greene Center must not taste his feet,195

When hell is plow'd up with his wounding tracts,

And all his harvest reap't by hellish facts.Exeunt.

Finis Actus Quarti.

Enter D'Ambois and Frierand1-19I am . . . despaire. A omits.

18th[e]. Emend, ed.; B, th.

Tamira enters.A, she enters.Pero, her maid. Emend. Dilke; A, her maid; B, Pero and her maid.

22curst. A omits.

25After this line A has Father, followed by stage direction:Ascendit Bussy with Comolet.

28-31Our love is knowne; . . . but he. Omitted in A, which has instead:—Buss.What insensate stocke,Or rude inanimate vapour without fashion.

28-31Our love is knowne; . . . but he. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

Buss.What insensate stocke,Or rude inanimate vapour without fashion.

Buss.What insensate stocke,

Or rude inanimate vapour without fashion.

He puts on his robes.A omits.

Thunder.A omits.

78Articulat. In some copies of B this is printed: Articular.

80one. A; B, on.

103[Fri.] Emend, ed.; Qq,Monsieur.

113where you may. A, wherein you.

Enter . . . letter.A omits.

Mont[surry] . . . exit.Emend. ed.; A,Exit Mont., which it places aftery'faithin l. 140; B,Exit Mont. and stabs Pero.

143rather be a bitter. A, be, at least, if not a.

145To you . . . me? A omits.Enter servant. A omits.

155die. A, stay.

156In. A, With.her. Emend. Dilke; Qq, his. Seenote, p. 159.

162And curb . . . policies. A, And let him curb his rage with policy.

193taint. A, print.

197by. A, from.

[A Room in Montsurry's House.]

Montsurry bare, unbrac't, pulling Tamyra in by the haire; Frier; One bearing light, a standish, and paper, which sets a table.

Tamyra.O, help me, father!Friar.Impious earle, forbeare;Take violent hand from her, or, by mine order,The King shall force thee.Montsurry.Tis not violent;Come you not willingly?Tam.Yes, good my lord.Fri.My lord, remember that your soule must seek5Her peace as well as your revengefull bloud.You ever to this houre have prov'd your selfeA noble, zealous, and obedient sonneT'our holy mother: be not an apostate.Your wives offence serves not (were it the worst10You can imagine) without greater proofesTo sever your eternall bonds and hearts;Much lesse to touch her with a bloudy hand.Nor is it manly (much lesse husbandly)To expiate any frailty in your wife15With churlish strokes, or beastly ods of strength.The stony birth of clowds will touch no lawrell,Nor any sleeper: your wife is your lawrell,And sweetest sleeper; doe not touch her, then;Be not more rude than the wild seed of vapour20To her that is more gentle than that rude;In whom kind nature suffer'd one offenceBut to set off her other excellence.Mont.Good father, leave us: interrupt no moreThe course I must runne for mine honour sake.25Rely on my love to her, which her faultCannot extinguish. Will she but discloseWho was the secret minister of her love,And through what maze he serv'd it, we are friends.Fri.It is a damn'd work to pursue those secrets30That would ope more sinne, and prove springs of slaughter;Nor is't a path for Christian feet to tread,But out of all way to the health of soules;A sinne impossible to be forgiven,Which he that dares commit—Mont.Good father, cease your terrors.35Tempt not a man distracted; I am aptTo outrages that I shall ever rue:I will not passe the verge that bounds a Christian,Nor break the limits of a man nor husband.Fri.Then Heaven inspire you both with thoughts and deeds40Worthy his high respect, and your owne soules!Tam.Father!Fri.I warrant thee, my dearest daughter,He will not touch thee; think'st thou him a pagan?His honor and his soule lies for thy safety.Exit.

Tamyra.O, help me, father!

Friar.Impious earle, forbeare;Take violent hand from her, or, by mine order,The King shall force thee.

Friar.Impious earle, forbeare;

Take violent hand from her, or, by mine order,

The King shall force thee.

Montsurry.Tis not violent;Come you not willingly?

Montsurry.Tis not violent;

Come you not willingly?

Tam.Yes, good my lord.

Fri.My lord, remember that your soule must seek5Her peace as well as your revengefull bloud.You ever to this houre have prov'd your selfeA noble, zealous, and obedient sonneT'our holy mother: be not an apostate.Your wives offence serves not (were it the worst10You can imagine) without greater proofesTo sever your eternall bonds and hearts;Much lesse to touch her with a bloudy hand.Nor is it manly (much lesse husbandly)To expiate any frailty in your wife15With churlish strokes, or beastly ods of strength.The stony birth of clowds will touch no lawrell,Nor any sleeper: your wife is your lawrell,And sweetest sleeper; doe not touch her, then;Be not more rude than the wild seed of vapour20To her that is more gentle than that rude;In whom kind nature suffer'd one offenceBut to set off her other excellence.

Fri.My lord, remember that your soule must seek5

Her peace as well as your revengefull bloud.

You ever to this houre have prov'd your selfe

A noble, zealous, and obedient sonne

T'our holy mother: be not an apostate.

Your wives offence serves not (were it the worst10

You can imagine) without greater proofes

To sever your eternall bonds and hearts;

Much lesse to touch her with a bloudy hand.

Nor is it manly (much lesse husbandly)

To expiate any frailty in your wife15

With churlish strokes, or beastly ods of strength.

The stony birth of clowds will touch no lawrell,

Nor any sleeper: your wife is your lawrell,

And sweetest sleeper; doe not touch her, then;

Be not more rude than the wild seed of vapour20

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 moreThe course I must runne for mine honour sake.25Rely on my love to her, which her faultCannot extinguish. Will she but discloseWho was the secret minister of her love,And through what maze he serv'd it, we are friends.

Mont.Good father, leave us: interrupt no more

The course I must runne 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.

Fri.It is a damn'd work to pursue those secrets30That would ope more sinne, and prove springs of slaughter;Nor is't a path for Christian feet to tread,But out of all way to the health of soules;A sinne impossible to be forgiven,Which he that dares commit—

Fri.It is a damn'd work to pursue those secrets30

That would ope more sinne, and prove springs of slaughter;

Nor is't a path for Christian feet to tread,

But out of all way to the health of soules;

A sinne impossible to be forgiven,

Which he that dares commit—

Mont.Good father, cease your terrors.35Tempt not a man distracted; I am aptTo outrages that I shall ever rue:I will not passe the verge that bounds a Christian,Nor break the limits of a man nor husband.

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 passe the verge that bounds a Christian,

Nor break the limits of a man nor husband.

Fri.Then Heaven inspire you both with thoughts and deeds40Worthy his high respect, and your owne soules!

Fri.Then Heaven inspire you both with thoughts and deeds40

Worthy his high respect, and your owne soules!

Tam.Father!

Fri.I warrant thee, my dearest daughter,He will not touch thee; think'st thou him a pagan?His honor and his soule lies for thy safety.Exit.

Fri.I warrant thee, my dearest daughter,

He will not touch thee; think'st thou him a pagan?

His honor and his soule lies for thy safety.Exit.

Mont.Who shall remove the mountaine from my brest,45Stand [in] the opening furnace of my thoughts,And set fit out-cries for a soule in hell?Mont[surry] turnes a key.For now it nothing fits my woes to speak,But thunder, or to take into my throatThe trump of Heaven, with whose determinate blasts50The windes shall burst and the devouring seasBe drunk up in his sounds, that my hot woes(Vented enough) I might convert to vapourAscending from my infamie unseene;Shorten the world, preventing the last breath55That kils the living, and regenerates death.Tam.My lord, my fault (as you may censure itWith too strong arguments) is past your pardon.But how the circumstances may excuse mee,Heaven knowes, and your more temperate minde hereafter60May let my penitent miseries make you know.Mont.Hereafter! tis a suppos'd infiniteThat from this point will rise eternally.Fame growes in going; in the scapes of vertueExcuses damne her: they be fires in cities65Enrag'd with those winds that lesse lights extinguish.Come syren, sing, and dash against my rocksThy ruffin gally rig'd with quench for lust:Sing, and put all the nets into thy voiceWith which thou drew'st into thy strumpets lap70The spawne of Venus, and in which ye danc'd;That, in thy laps steed, I may digge his tombe,And quit his manhood with a womans sleight,Who never is deceiv'd in her deceit.Sing (that is, write); and then take from mine eyes75The mists that hide the most inscrutable panderThat ever lapt up an adulterous vomit,That I may see the devill, and surviveTo be a devill, and then learne to wive!That I may hang him, and then cut him downe,80Then cut him up, and with my soules beams searchThe cranks and cavernes of his braine, and studyThe errant wildernesse of a womans face,Where men cannot get out, for all the cometsThat have beene lighted at it. Though they know85That adders lie a sunning in their smiles,That basilisks drink their poyson from their eyes,And no way there to coast out to their hearts,Yet still they wander there, and are not stay'dTill they be fetter'd, nor secure before90All cares devoure them, nor in humane consortTill they embrace within their wives two breastsAll Pelion and Cythæron with their beasts.—Why write you not?Tam.O, good my lord, forbeareIn wreak of great faults to engender greater,95And make my loves corruption generate murther.Mont.It followes needfully as childe and parent;The chaine-shot of thy lust is yet aloft,And it must murther; tis thine owne deare twinne.No man can adde height to a womans sinne.100Vice never doth her just hate so provoke,As when she rageth under vertues cloake.Write! for it must be—by this ruthlesse steele,By this impartiall torture, and the deathThy tyrannies have invented in my entrails,105To quicken life in dying, and hold upThe spirits in fainting, teaching to preserveTorments in ashes that will ever last.Speak: will you write?Tam.Sweet lord, enjoyne my sinneSome other penance than what makes it worse:110Hide in some gloomie dungeon my loth'd face,And let condemned murtherers let me downe(Stopping their noses) my abhorred food:Hang me in chaines, and let me eat these armesThat have offended: binde me face to face115To some dead woman, taken from the cartOf execution?—till death and timeIn graines of dust dissolve me, Ile endure;Or any torture that your wraths inventionCan fright all pitie from the world withall.120But to betray a friend with shew of friendship,That is too common for the rare revengeYour rage affecteth; here then are my breasts,Last night your pillowes; here my wretched armes,As late the wished confines of your life:125Now break them, as you please, and all the boundsOf manhood, noblesse, and religion.Mont.Where all these have bin broken, they are keptIn doing their justice there with any shewOf the like cruell cruelty: thine armes have lost130Their priviledge in lust, and in their tortureThus they must pay it.Stabs her.Tam.O lord—Mont.Till thou writ'st,Ile write in wounds (my wrongs fit characters)Thy right of sufferance. Write!Tam.O kill me, kill me!Deare husband, be not crueller than death!135You have beheld some Gorgon: feele, O feeleHow you are turn'd to stone. With my heart bloodDissolve your selfe againe, or you will growInto the image of all tyrannie.Mont.As thou art of adultry; I will ever140Prove thee my parallel, being most a monster.Thus I expresse thee yet.Stabs her againe.Tam.And yet I live.Mont.I, for thy monstrous idoll is not done yet.This toole hath wrought enough. Now, Torture, useEnt[er] Servants.This other engine on th'habituate powers145Of her thrice damn'd and whorish fortitude:Use the most madding paines in her that everThy venoms sok'd through, making most of death,That she may weigh her wrongs with them—and thenStand, vengeance, on thy steepest rock, a victor!150Tam.O 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 sinnes,Not of my paines: husband, O help me, husband!

Mont.Who shall remove the mountaine from my brest,45

Stand [in] the opening furnace of my thoughts,

And set fit out-cries for a soule in hell?Mont[surry] turnes a key.

For now it nothing fits my woes to speak,

But thunder, or to take into my throat

The trump of Heaven, with whose determinate blasts50

The windes 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 infamie unseene;

Shorten the world, preventing the last breath55

That kils the living, and regenerates death.

Tam.My lord, my fault (as you may censure itWith too strong arguments) is past your pardon.But how the circumstances may excuse mee,Heaven knowes, and your more temperate minde hereafter60May let my penitent miseries make you know.

Tam.My lord, my fault (as you may censure it

With too strong arguments) is past your pardon.

But how the circumstances may excuse mee,

Heaven knowes, and your more temperate minde hereafter60

May let my penitent miseries make you know.

Mont.Hereafter! tis a suppos'd infiniteThat from this point will rise eternally.Fame growes in going; in the scapes of vertueExcuses damne her: they be fires in cities65Enrag'd with those winds that lesse lights extinguish.Come syren, sing, and dash against my rocksThy ruffin gally rig'd with quench for lust:Sing, and put all the nets into thy voiceWith which thou drew'st into thy strumpets lap70The spawne of Venus, and in which ye danc'd;That, in thy laps steed, I may digge his tombe,And quit his manhood with a womans sleight,Who never is deceiv'd in her deceit.Sing (that is, write); and then take from mine eyes75The mists that hide the most inscrutable panderThat ever lapt up an adulterous vomit,That I may see the devill, and surviveTo be a devill, and then learne to wive!That I may hang him, and then cut him downe,80Then cut him up, and with my soules beams searchThe cranks and cavernes of his braine, and studyThe errant wildernesse of a womans face,Where men cannot get out, for all the cometsThat have beene lighted at it. Though they know85That adders lie a sunning in their smiles,That basilisks drink their poyson from their eyes,And no way there to coast out to their hearts,Yet still they wander there, and are not stay'dTill they be fetter'd, nor secure before90All cares devoure them, nor in humane consortTill they embrace within their wives two breastsAll Pelion and Cythæron with their beasts.—Why write you not?

Mont.Hereafter! tis a suppos'd infinite

That from this point will rise eternally.

Fame growes in going; in the scapes of vertue

Excuses damne her: they be fires in cities65

Enrag'd with those winds that lesse lights extinguish.

Come syren, sing, and dash against my rocks

Thy ruffin gally rig'd with quench for lust:

Sing, and put all the nets into thy voice

With which thou drew'st into thy strumpets lap70

The spawne of Venus, and in which ye danc'd;

That, in thy laps steed, I may digge his tombe,

And quit his manhood with a womans sleight,

Who never is deceiv'd in her deceit.

Sing (that is, write); and then take from mine eyes75

The mists that hide the most inscrutable pander

That ever lapt up an adulterous vomit,

That I may see the devill, and survive

To be a devill, and then learne to wive!

That I may hang him, and then cut him downe,80

Then cut him up, and with my soules beams search

The cranks and cavernes of his braine, and study

The errant wildernesse of a womans face,

Where men cannot get out, for all the comets

That have beene lighted at it. Though they know85

That adders lie a sunning in their smiles,

That basilisks drink their poyson 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 before90

All cares devoure them, nor in humane consort

Till they embrace within their wives two breasts

All Pelion and Cythæron with their beasts.—

Why write you not?

Tam.O, good my lord, forbeareIn wreak of great faults to engender greater,95And make my loves corruption generate murther.

Tam.O, good my lord, forbeare

In wreak of great faults to engender greater,95

And make my loves corruption generate murther.

Mont.It followes needfully as childe and parent;The chaine-shot of thy lust is yet aloft,And it must murther; tis thine owne deare twinne.No man can adde height to a womans sinne.100Vice never doth her just hate so provoke,As when she rageth under vertues cloake.Write! for it must be—by this ruthlesse steele,By this impartiall torture, and the deathThy tyrannies have invented in my entrails,105To quicken life in dying, and hold upThe spirits in fainting, teaching to preserveTorments in ashes that will ever last.Speak: will you write?

Mont.It followes needfully as childe and parent;

The chaine-shot of thy lust is yet aloft,

And it must murther; tis thine owne deare twinne.

No man can adde height to a womans sinne.100

Vice never doth her just hate so provoke,

As when she rageth under vertues cloake.

Write! for it must be—by this ruthlesse steele,

By this impartiall 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?

Tam.Sweet lord, enjoyne my sinneSome other penance than what makes it worse:110Hide in some gloomie dungeon my loth'd face,And let condemned murtherers let me downe(Stopping their noses) my abhorred food:Hang me in chaines, and let me eat these armesThat have offended: binde me face to face115To some dead woman, taken from the cartOf execution?—till death and timeIn graines of dust dissolve me, Ile endure;Or any torture that your wraths inventionCan fright all pitie from the world withall.120But to betray a friend with shew of friendship,That is too common for the rare revengeYour rage affecteth; here then are my breasts,Last night your pillowes; here my wretched armes,As late the wished confines of your life:125Now break them, as you please, and all the boundsOf manhood, noblesse, and religion.

Tam.Sweet lord, enjoyne my sinne

Some other penance than what makes it worse:110

Hide in some gloomie dungeon my loth'd face,

And let condemned murtherers let me downe

(Stopping their noses) my abhorred food:

Hang me in chaines, and let me eat these armes

That have offended: binde me face to face115

To some dead woman, taken from the cart

Of execution?—till death and time

In graines of dust dissolve me, Ile endure;

Or any torture that your wraths invention

Can fright all pitie from the world withall.120

But to betray a friend with shew of friendship,

That is too common for the rare revenge

Your rage affecteth; here then are my breasts,

Last night your pillowes; here my wretched armes,

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 bin broken, they are keptIn doing their justice there with any shewOf the like cruell cruelty: thine armes have lost130Their priviledge in lust, and in their tortureThus they must pay it.Stabs her.

Mont.Where all these have bin broken, they are kept

In doing their justice there with any shew

Of the like cruell cruelty: thine armes have lost130

Their priviledge in lust, and in their torture

Thus they must pay it.Stabs her.

Tam.O lord—

Mont.Till thou writ'st,Ile write in wounds (my wrongs fit characters)Thy right of sufferance. Write!

Mont.Till thou writ'st,

Ile write in wounds (my wrongs fit characters)

Thy right of sufferance. Write!

Tam.O kill me, kill me!Deare husband, be not crueller than death!135You have beheld some Gorgon: feele, O feeleHow you are turn'd to stone. With my heart bloodDissolve your selfe againe, or you will growInto the image of all tyrannie.

Tam.O kill me, kill me!

Deare husband, be not crueller than death!135

You have beheld some Gorgon: feele, O feele

How you are turn'd to stone. With my heart blood

Dissolve your selfe againe, or you will grow

Into the image of all tyrannie.

Mont.As thou art of adultry; I will ever140Prove thee my parallel, being most a monster.Thus I expresse thee yet.Stabs her againe.

Mont.As thou art of adultry; I will ever140

Prove thee my parallel, being most a monster.

Thus I expresse thee yet.Stabs her againe.

Tam.And yet I live.

Mont.I, for thy monstrous idoll is not done yet.This toole hath wrought enough. Now, Torture, useEnt[er] Servants.This other engine on th'habituate powers145Of her thrice damn'd and whorish fortitude:Use the most madding paines in her that everThy venoms sok'd through, making most of death,That she may weigh her wrongs with them—and thenStand, vengeance, on thy steepest rock, a victor!150

Mont.I, for thy monstrous idoll is not done yet.

This toole hath wrought enough. Now, Torture, useEnt[er] Servants.

This other engine on th'habituate powers145

Of her thrice damn'd and whorish fortitude:

Use the most madding paines in her that ever

Thy venoms sok'd through, making most of death,

That she may weigh her wrongs with them—and then

Stand, vengeance, on thy steepest rock, a victor!150

Tam.O 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 sinnes,Not of my paines: husband, O help me, husband!

Tam.O 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 sinnes,

Not of my paines: husband, O help me, husband!

Ascendit Frier with a sword drawne.

Fri.What rape of honour and religion!155O wrack of nature!Falls and dies.Tam.Poore man! O, my father!Father, look up! O, let me downe, my lord,And I will write.Mont.Author of prodigies!What new flame breakes out of the firmamentThat turnes up counsels never knowne before?160Now is it true, earth moves, and heaven stands still;Even heaven it selfe must see and suffer ill.The too huge bias of the world hath sway'dHer back-part upwards, and with that she bravesThis hemisphere that long her mouth hath mockt:165The gravity of her religious face(Now growne too waighty with her sacriledge,And here discern'd sophisticate enough)Turnes to th'Antipodes; and all the formesThat her illusions have imprest in her170Have eaten through her back; and now all seeHow she is riveted with hypocrisie.Was this the way? was he the mean betwixt you?Tam.He was, he was, kind worthy man, he was.Mont.Write, write a word or two.Tam.I will, I will.175Ile write, but with my bloud, that he may seeThese lines come from my wounds & not from me.Writes.Mont.Well might he die for thought: methinks the frameAnd shaken joynts of the whole world should crackTo see her parts so disproportionate;180And that his generall beauty cannot standWithout these staines in the particular man.Why wander I so farre? here, here was sheThat was a whole world without spot to me,Though now a world of spots. Oh what a lightning185Is mans delight in women! What a bubbleHe builds his state, fame, life on, when he marries!Since all earths pleasures are so short and small,The way t'enjoy it is t'abjure it all.Enough! I must be messenger my selfe,190Disguis'd like this strange creature. In, Ile after,To see what guilty light gives this cave eyes,And to the world sing new impieties.

Fri.What rape of honour and religion!155O wrack of nature!Falls and dies.

Fri.What rape of honour and religion!155

O wrack of nature!Falls and dies.

Tam.Poore man! O, my father!Father, look up! O, let me downe, my lord,And I will write.

Tam.Poore man! O, my father!

Father, look up! O, let me downe, my lord,

And I will write.

Mont.Author of prodigies!What new flame breakes out of the firmamentThat turnes up counsels never knowne before?160Now is it true, earth moves, and heaven stands still;Even heaven it selfe must see and suffer ill.The too huge bias of the world hath sway'dHer back-part upwards, and with that she bravesThis hemisphere that long her mouth hath mockt:165The gravity of her religious face(Now growne too waighty with her sacriledge,And here discern'd sophisticate enough)Turnes to th'Antipodes; and all the formesThat her illusions have imprest in her170Have eaten through her back; and now all seeHow she is riveted with hypocrisie.Was this the way? was he the mean betwixt you?

Mont.Author of prodigies!

What new flame breakes out of the firmament

That turnes up counsels never knowne before?160

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

Even heaven it selfe 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 mockt:165

The gravity of her religious face

(Now growne too waighty with her sacriledge,

And here discern'd sophisticate enough)

Turnes to th'Antipodes; and all the formes

That her illusions have imprest in her170

Have eaten through her back; and now all see

How she is riveted with hypocrisie.

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

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

Mont.Write, write a word or two.

Tam.I will, I will.175Ile write, but with my bloud, that he may seeThese lines come from my wounds & not from me.Writes.

Tam.I will, I will.175

Ile write, but with my bloud, that he may see

These lines come from my wounds & not from me.Writes.

Mont.Well might he die for thought: methinks the frameAnd shaken joynts of the whole world should crackTo see her parts so disproportionate;180And that his generall beauty cannot standWithout these staines in the particular man.Why wander I so farre? here, here was sheThat was a whole world without spot to me,Though now a world of spots. Oh what a lightning185Is mans delight in women! What a bubbleHe builds his state, fame, life on, when he marries!Since all earths pleasures are so short and small,The way t'enjoy it is t'abjure it all.Enough! I must be messenger my selfe,190Disguis'd like this strange creature. In, Ile after,To see what guilty light gives this cave eyes,And to the world sing new impieties.

Mont.Well might he die for thought: methinks the frame

And shaken joynts of the whole world should crack

To see her parts so disproportionate;180

And that his generall beauty cannot stand

Without these staines in the particular man.

Why wander I so farre? here, here was she

That was a whole world without spot to me,

Though now a world of spots. Oh what a lightning185

Is mans delight in women! What a bubble

He builds his state, fame, life on, when he marries!

Since all earths pleasures are so short and small,

The way t'enjoy it is t'abjure it all.

Enough! I must be messenger my selfe,190

Disguis'd like this strange creature. In, Ile after,

To see what guilty light gives this cave eyes,

And to the world sing new impieties.

He puts the Frier in the vault and follows. She raps her self in the arras.

Exeunt [Servants].

by the haire.A omits.

1-4O, help . . . my lord. A omits.

21than that. A, than it.

28secret. A, hateful.

32tread. A, touch.

35your terrors. A omits.

35-6Good . . . distracted. B punctuates:—Good father cease: your terrorsTempt not a man distracted.

35-6Good . . . distracted. B punctuates:—

Good father cease: your terrorsTempt not a man distracted.

40Heaven. A, God.you. A, ye.

42-4Father . . . safety. A omits.

45brest. A, heart.

46Stand [in] the opening. Emend, ed.; A, Ope the seven-times heat; B, Stand the opening.

48woes. A, cares.

51devouring. A, enraged.

60Heaven. A, God.

68rig'd with quench for. A, laden for thy.

91devoure. A, distract.consort. A, state.

95faults. A, sins.

129with any shew . . . cruelty. A omits.

140ever. A, still.

141parallel. A, like in ill.

Enter Servants.A omits.

with a sword drawne.A omits.

Falls and dies.A omits.

174worthy. A, innocent.

He . . . arras.Exeunt.A omits; B placesHe . . . arrasafterExeunt.

A Room in Montsurry's House.]

Enter Monsieur and Guise.

Monsieur.Now shall we see that Nature hath no endIn her great works responsive to their worths;That she, that makes so many eyes and soulesTo see and fore-see, is stark blind her selfe;And as illiterate men say Latine prayers5By rote of heart and dayly iteration,Not knowing what they say, so Nature layesA deale of stuffe together, and by use,Or by the meere necessity of matter,Ends such a work, fills it, or leaves it empty10Of strength, or vertue, error, or cleare truth,Not knowing what she does; but usuallyGives that which we call merit to a man,And beliefe must arrive him on huge riches,Honour and happinesse, that effects his ruine.15Even as in ships of warre whole lasts of powderAre laid, me thinks, to make them last, and gard them,When a disorder'd spark, that powder taking,Blowes up, with sodaine violence and horror,Ships that (kept empty) had sayl'd long, with terror.20Guise.He that observes but like a worldly manThat which doth oft succeed and by th'eventsValues the worth of things, will think it trueThat Nature works at random, just with you:But with as much proportion she may make25A thing that from the feet up to the throatHath all the wondrous fabrique man should have,And leave it headlesse, for a perfect man,As give a full man valour, vertue, learning,Without an end more excellent then those30On whom she no such worthy part bestowes.Mons.Yet shall you see it here; here will be oneYoung, learned, valiant, vertuous, and full mann'd;One on whom Nature spent so rich a handThat with an ominous eye she wept to see35So much consum'd her vertuous treasurie.Yet as the winds sing through a hollow tree,And (since it lets them passe through) let's it stand;But a tree solid (since it gives no wayTo their wild rage) they rend up by the root:40So this whole man(That will not wind with every crooked wayTrod by the servile world) shall reele and fallBefore the frantick puffes of blind borne chance,That pipes through empty men and makes them dance.45Not so the sea raves on the Libian sands,Tumbling her billowes in each others neck:Not so the surges of the Euxian Sea(Neere to the frosty pole, where free BootesFrom those dark deep waves turnes his radiant teame)50Swell, being enrag'd even from their inmost drop,As fortune swings about the restlesse stateOf vertue now throwne into all mens hate.

Monsieur.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 soules

To see and fore-see, is stark blind her selfe;

And as illiterate men say Latine prayers5

By rote of heart and dayly iteration,

Not knowing what they say, so Nature layes

A deale of stuffe together, and by use,

Or by the meere necessity of matter,

Ends such a work, fills it, or leaves it empty10

Of strength, or vertue, error, or cleare truth,

Not knowing what she does; but usually

Gives that which we call merit to a man,

And beliefe must arrive him on huge riches,

Honour and happinesse, that effects his ruine.15

Even as in ships of warre whole lasts of powder

Are laid, me thinks, to make them last, and gard them,

When a disorder'd spark, that powder taking,

Blowes up, with sodaine violence and horror,

Ships that (kept empty) had sayl'd long, with terror.20

Guise.He that observes but like a worldly manThat which doth oft succeed and by th'eventsValues the worth of things, will think it trueThat Nature works at random, just with you:But with as much proportion she may make25A thing that from the feet up to the throatHath all the wondrous fabrique man should have,And leave it headlesse, for a perfect man,As give a full man valour, vertue, learning,Without an end more excellent then those30On whom she no such worthy part bestowes.

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 make25

A thing that from the feet up to the throat

Hath all the wondrous fabrique man should have,

And leave it headlesse, for a perfect man,

As give a full man valour, vertue, learning,

Without an end more excellent then those30

On whom she no such worthy part bestowes.

Mons.Yet shall you see it here; here will be oneYoung, learned, valiant, vertuous, and full mann'd;One on whom Nature spent so rich a handThat with an ominous eye she wept to see35So much consum'd her vertuous treasurie.Yet as the winds sing through a hollow tree,And (since it lets them passe through) let's it stand;But a tree solid (since it gives no wayTo their wild rage) they rend up by the root:40So this whole man(That will not wind with every crooked wayTrod by the servile world) shall reele and fallBefore the frantick puffes of blind borne chance,That pipes through empty men and makes them dance.45Not so the sea raves on the Libian sands,Tumbling her billowes in each others neck:Not so the surges of the Euxian Sea(Neere to the frosty pole, where free BootesFrom those dark deep waves turnes his radiant teame)50Swell, being enrag'd even from their inmost drop,As fortune swings about the restlesse stateOf vertue now throwne into all mens hate.

Mons.Yet shall you see it here; here will be one

Young, learned, valiant, vertuous, and full mann'd;

One on whom Nature spent so rich a hand

That with an ominous eye she wept to see35

So much consum'd her vertuous treasurie.

Yet as the winds sing through a hollow tree,

And (since it lets them passe through) let's it stand;

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 reele and fall

Before the frantick puffes of blind borne chance,

That pipes through empty men and makes them dance.45

Not so the sea raves on the Libian sands,

Tumbling her billowes in each others neck:

Not so the surges of the Euxian Sea

(Neere to the frosty pole, where free Bootes

From those dark deep waves turnes his radiant teame)50

Swell, being enrag'd even from their inmost drop,

As fortune swings about the restlesse state

Of vertue now throwne into all mens hate.

Enter Montsurry disguis'd, with the murtherers.

Away, my lord; you are perfectly disguis'd;Leave us to lodge your ambush.Montsurry.Speed me, vengeance!55

Away, my lord; you are perfectly disguis'd;Leave us to lodge your ambush.

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

Leave us to lodge your ambush.

Montsurry.Speed me, vengeance!55

Exit.

Mons.Resolve, my masters, you shall meet with oneWill try what proofes your privy coats are made on:When he is entred, and you heare us stamp,Approach, and make all sure.Murderers.We will, my lord.Exeunt.

Mons.Resolve, my masters, you shall meet with oneWill try what proofes your privy coats are made on:When he is entred, and you heare us stamp,Approach, and make all sure.

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

Will try what proofes your privy coats are made on:

When he is entred, and you heare us stamp,

Approach, and make all sure.

Murderers.We will, my lord.Exeunt.

1-59Now shall . . . we will my lord. These lines are placed in A at the beginning of Scena Quarta.]

3that makes. A, who makes.

7Not knowing what they say. Omitted in A, which has instead:—In whose hot zeale a man would thinke they knewWhat they ranne so away with, and were sureTo have rewards proportion'd to their labours;Yet may implore their owne confusionsFor anything they know, which oftentimesIt fals out they incurre.

7Not knowing what they say. Omitted in A, which has instead:—

In whose hot zeale a man would thinke they knewWhat they ranne so away with, and were sureTo have rewards proportion'd to their labours;Yet may implore their owne confusionsFor anything they know, which oftentimesIt fals out they incurre.

8deale. A, masse.

13we call. A; B, she calls.

14must. A, should.

16Even. A, Right.

17me thinks. men thinke.gard them. A; B, guard.

25proportion. A, decorum.

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