Act 2 — [Scene II.][958]

Mont. He will have pardon, sure. Ta. ’T were pity, else: For though his great spirit something overflow, All faults are atill borne that from greatness grow; But such a sudden courtier saw I never. Be. He was too sudden, which indeed was rudeness.5 Ta. True, for it argued his no due conceit[959] Both of the place and greatness of the persons, Nor of our sex: all which (we all being strangers To his encounter) should have made more manners9 Deserve more welcome. Mont. All this fault is found Because he lov’d the duchess and left you. Ta. Alas, love give her joy; I am so far From envy of her honour, that I swear, Had he encounter’d me with such proud slight, I would have put that project[960] face of his15 To a more test than did her duchesship. Be. Why (by your leave, my lord) I ’ll speak it here, Although she be my aunt, she scarce was modest, When she percerv’d the duke her husband take Those late exceptions to her servant’s courtship,20 To entertain him. Ta. Ay, and stand him still, Letting her husband give her servant place. Though he did manly, she should be a woman.

[Gu.] D’Ambois is pardon’d! Where’s a king? Where law? See how it runs, much like a turbulent sea,25 Here high and glorious as it did contend To wash the heavens and make the stars more pure, And here so low, it leaves the mud of hell To every common view; come, Count Montsurry,29 We must consult of this. Ta. Stay not, sweet lord. Mont. Be pleas’d, I ’ll straight return. Exit cum Guise. Ta. Would that would please me! Be. I ’ll leave you, madam, to your passions; I see there ’s change of weather in your looks. Exit cum suis. Ta. I cannot cloak it; but, as when a fume, Hot, dry, and gross, within the womb of earth Or in her superficies begot,36 When extreme cold hath struck it to her heart, The more it is comprest, the more it rageth; Exceeds his prison’s strength that should contain it, And then it tosseth temples in the air,40 All bars made engines to his insolent fury; So, of a sudden, my licentious fancy Riots within me: not my name and house Nor my religion, to this hour observ’d, Can stand above it. I must utter that45 That will in parting break more strings in me Than death when life parts; and that holy man That, from my cradle, counsell’d for my soul, I now must make an agent for my blood.[961]49

Mo. Yet, is my mistress gracious? Ta. Yet unanswered? Mo. Pray thee regard thine own good, if not mine, And cheer my love for that; you do not know What you may be by me, nor what without me; I may have power t’ advance and pull down any. Ta. That ’s not my study. One way I am sure55 You shall not pull down me; my husband’s height Is crown to all my hopes; and his retiring To any mean state, shall be my aspiring; My honour ’s in mine own hands, spite of kings. Mo. Honour, what ’s that? Your second maidenhead:60 And what is that? A word. The word is gone, The thing remains: the rose is pluckt, the stalk Abides; an easy loss where no lack’s found. Believe it, there ’s as small lack in the loss As there is pain i’ th’ losing; archers ever65 Have two strings to a bow; and shall great Cupid (Archer of archers both in men and women,) Be worse provided than a common archer? A husband and a friend all wise wives have. Ta. Wise wives they are that on such strings depend,70 With a firm husband joining a loose friend! Mo. Still you stand on your husband, so do all The common sex of you, when y’ are encounter’d With one ye cannot fancy. All men know74 You live in Court, here, by your own election, Frequenting all our common sports and triumphs, All the most youthful company of men: And wherefore do you this? To please your husband? ’T is gross and fulsome: if your husband’s pleasure Be all your object, and you aim at honour80 In living close to him, get you from Court; You may have him at home; these common put-offs For common women serve: “My honour! Husband!” Dames maritorious[962] ne’er were meritorious. Speak plain, and say, “I do not like you, sir,85 Y’ are an ill-favour’d fellow in my eye;” And I am answer’d. Ta. Then, I pray, be answer’d: For in good faith, my lord, I do not like you In that sort[963] you like. Mo. Then have at you, here! Take (with a politic hand) this rope of pearl,90 And though you be not amorous, yet be wise: Take me for wisdom; he that you can love Is ne’er the further from you. Ta. Now it comes So ill prepar’d, that I may take a poison, Under a medicine as good cheap as it;95 I will not have it were it worth the world. Mo. Horror of death; could I but please your eye, You would give me the like, ere you would lose me. “Honour and husband!” Ta. By this light, my lord, Y’ are a vile fellow, and I ’ll tell the king100 Your occupation of dishonouring ladies And of his Court. A lady cannot live As she was born, and with that sort of pleasure That fits her state, but she must be defam’d With an infamous lord’s detraction.105 Who would endure the Court if these attempts Of open and profest lust must be borne? Who ’s there? Come on, dame; you are at your book When men are at your mistress; have I taught you Any such waiting-woman’s quality?110 Mo. Farewell, good “husband.” Exit Monsieur. Mont. Farewell, wicked lord.

Mont. Was not the Monsieur here? Ta. Yes, to good purpose; And your cause is as good to seek him too, And haunt his company. Mont. Why, what ’s the matter? Ta. Matter of death, were I some husbands’ wife.115 I cannot live at quiet in my chamber, For opportunities[964] almost to rapes Offer’d me by him. Mont. Pray thee bear with him. Thou know’st he is a bachelor and a courtier, Ay, and a prince; and their prerogatives120 Are to their laws, as to their pardons are Their reservations, after Parliaments— One quits another; form gives all their essence. That prince doth high in virtue’s reckoning stand That will entreat a vice, and not command.125 So far bear with him; should another man Trust to his privilege, he should trust to death. Take comfort, then, my comfort, nay, triumph And crown thyself, thou part’st with victory;[965] My presence is so only dear to thee130 That other men’s appear worse than they be. For this night yet, bear with my forced absence; Thou know’st my business; and with how much weight. My vow hath charg’d it. Ta. True, my lord, and never My fruitless love shall let[966] your serious honour; Yet, sweet lord, do not stay; you know my soul136 Is so long time without me, and I dead, As you are absent. Mont. By this kiss, receive My soul for hostage, till I see my love. Ta. The morn shall let me see you. Mont. With the sun I ’ll visit thy more comfortable[967] beauties.141 Ta. This is my comfort, that the sun hath left The whole world’s beauty ere my sun leaves me. Mont. ’T is late night now indeed; farewell, my light. Exit. Ta. Farewell, my light and life;—but not in him,145 In mine own dark love and light bent to another. Alas that in the wane[968] of our affections We should supply it with a full dissembling, In which each youngest maid is grown a mother; Frailty is fruitful, one sin gets another.150 Our loves like sparkles are that brightest shine When they go out, most vice shows most divine.— Go, maid, to bed; lend me your book, I pray; Not like yourself for form; I ’ll this night trouble None of your services. Make sure the doors,155 And call your other fellows to their rest. Pe. I will,—[Aside.] yet I will watch to know why you watch. Exit. Ta. Now all ye peaceful regents of the night, Silently-gliding exhalations, Languishing winds, and murmuring falls of waters,160 Sadness of heart and ominous secureness, Enchantments, dead sleeps, all the friends of rest, That ever wrought upon the life of man, Extend your utmost strengths; and this charm’d hour164 Fix like the centre;[969] make the violent wheels Of Time and Fortune stand; and great Existence (The Maker’s treasury) now not seem to be, To all but my approaching friends and me. They come, alas, they come! Fear, fear and hope Of one thing, at one instant fight in me;170 I love what most I loathe, and cannot live Unless I compass that which holds my death; For life ’s mere death, loving one that loathes me, And he I love will loath me, when he sees I fly my sex, my virtue, my renown,175 To run so madly on a man unknown. The vault opens. See, see, a vault is opening that was never Known to my lord and husband, nor to any But him that brings the man I love, and me. How shall I look on him? How shall I live, And not consume in blushes? I will in,181 And cast myself off,[970] as I ne’er had been.[971] Exit.

Fr. Come, worthiest son, I am past measure glad, That you (whose worth I have approv’d so long) Should be the object of her fearful love;185 Since both your wit and spirit can adapt Their full force to supply her utmost weakness. You know her worths and virtues, for report Of all that know is to a man a knowledge:189 You know besides, that our affections’ storm, Rais’d in our blood, no reason can reform. Though she seek then their satisfaction (Which she must needs, or rest unsatisfied) Your judgment will esteem her peace thus wrought,194 Nothing less dear than if yourself had sought; And (with another colour, which my art Shall teach you to lay on) yourself must seem The only agent, and the first orb move[972] In this our set and cunning world of love. Bu. Give me the colour, my most honour’d father,200 And trust my cunning then to lay it on. Fr. ’T is this, good son; Lord Barrisor (whom you slew) Did love her dearly, and with all fit means Hath urg’d his acceptation, of all which She keeps one letter written in his blood.205 You must say thus, then, that you heard from me How much herself was toucht in conscience With a report (which is in truth disperst) That your main quarrel grew about her love, Lord Barrisor imagining your courtship210 Of the great Guise’s Duchess in the presence, Was by you made to his elected mistress; And so made me your mean now to resolve her, Choosing (by my direction) this night’s depth For the more clear avoiding of all note215 Of your presumed presence: and with this (To clear her hands of such a lover’s blood) She will so kindly thank and entertain you, Methinks I see how, ay, and ten to one, Show you the confirmation in his blood,220 Lest you should think report and she did feign, That you shall so have circumstantial means To come to the direct, which must be used: For the direct is crooked; love comes flying; The height of love is still won with denying.225 Bu. Thanks, honour’d father. Fr. She must never know That you know anything of any love Sustain’d on her part: for, learn this of me, In anything a woman does alone, If she dissemble, she thinks ’tis not done;230 If not dissemble,[973] nor a little chide, Give her her wish, she is not satisfi’d; To have a man think that she never seeks, Does her more good than to have all she likes: This frailty sticks in them beyond their sex, Which to reform, reason is too perplex:236 Urge reason to them, it will do no good; Humour (that is the chariot of our food In everybody) must in them be fed, To carry their affections by it bred.240 Stand close.

Ta. Alas, I fear my strangeness will retire him. If he go back, I die; I must prevent it, And cheer his onset with my sight at least, And that’s the most; though every step he takes245 Goes to my heart. I ’ll rather die than seem Not to be strange to that I most esteem. Fr. Madam. Ta. Ah! Fr. You will pardon me, I hope, That so beyond your expectation, And at a time for visitants so unfit,250 I (with my noble friend here) visit you. You know that my access at any time Hath ever been admitted; and that friend That my care will presume to bring with me Shall have all circumstance of worth in him255 To merit as free welcome as myself. Ta. Oh, father! but at this suspicious hour You know how apt best men are to suspect us, In any cause that makes suspicious shadow No greater than the shadow of a hair:260 And y’ are to blame. What though my lord and husband Lie forth to-night, and, since I cannot sleep When he is absent, I sit up to-night; Though all the doors are sure, and all our servants As sure bound with their sleeps; yet there is One265 That wakes above, whose eye no sleep can bind. He sees through doors, and darkness, and our thoughts; And therefore as we should avoid with fear To think amiss ourselves before his search, So should we be as curious to shun270 All cause that other think not ill of us. Bu. Madam, ’t is far from that; I only heard By this my honour’d father, that your conscience Made some deep scruple with a false report That Barrisor’s blood should something touch your honour,275 Since he imagin’d I was courting you, When I was bold to change words with the duchess, And therefore made his quarrel; his long love And service, as I hear, being deeply vowed279 To your perfections, which my ready presence, Presum’d on with my father at this season For the more care of your so curious[974] honour, Can well resolve[975] your conscience, is most false. Ta. And is it therefore that you come, good sir?284 Then crave I now your pardon and my father’s, And swear your presence does me so much good, That all I have it hinds to your requital. Indeed, sir, ’t is most true that a report Is spread, alleging that his love to me Was reason of your quarrel, and because290 You shall not think I feign it for my glory That he importun’d me for his court service,[976] I ’ll show you his own hand, set down in blood To that vain purpose. Good sir, then come in. Father, I thank you now a thousand-fold.295 Exit Tamyra and D’Ambois. Fr. May it be worth it to you, honour’d daughter. Descendit Friar.