Act 4 — Scene I.[1034]

He. Ladies, ye have not done our banquet right, Nor lookt upon it with those cheerful rays That lately turn’d your breaths to floods of gold; Your looks, methinks, are not drawn out with thoughts So clear and free as heretofore, but foul,5 As if the thick complexions of men Govern’d within them. Bu. ’Tis not like, my lord, That men in women rule, but contrary; For as the moon (of all things God created) Not only is the most appropriate image10 Or glass to show them how they wax and wane, But in her height and motion likewise bears Imperial influences that command In all their powers, and make them wax and wane;14 So women, that (of all things made of nothing) Are the most perfect idols of the moon, Or still-unwean’d sweet moon-calves with white faces, Not only are patterns of change to men, But as the tender moonshine of their beauties Clears or is cloudy, make men glad or sad;20 So then they rule in men, not men in them. Mo. But here the moons are chang’d, (as the King notes) And either men rule in them, or some power Beyond their voluntary faculty, For nothing can recover their lost faces.25 Mont. None can be always one: our griefs and joys Hold several sceptres in us, and have times For their divided empires: which grief now, in them Doth prove as proper to his diadem. Bu. And grief’s a natural sickness of the blood,30 That time to part asks, as his coming had; Only slight fools griev’d suddenly are glad. A man may say t’ a dead man, “Be reviv’d,” As well as to one sorrowful, “Be not griev’d,” And therefore, princely mistress,[1035] in all wars35 Against these base foes that insult on weakness, And still fight hous’d behind the shield of Nature, Of privilege, law, treachery, or beastly need, Your servant[1036] cannot help; authority here Goes with corruption: something like some states,40 That back worst men: valour to them must creep That, to themselves left, would fear him asleep. Du. Ye all take that for granted that doth rest Yet to be prov’d; we all are as we were, As merry and as free in thought as ever.45 Gu. And why then can ye not disclose your thoughts? Ta. Methinks the man hath answer’d for us well. Mo. The man? Why, madam, d’ ye not know his name? Ta. Man is a name of honour for a king:49 Additions[1037] take away from each chief thing: The school of modesty not to learn learns dames: They sit in high forms[1038] there, that know men’s names. Mo. [to Bussy.] Hark! sweetheart, here’s a bar set to your valour; It cannot enter here; no, not to notice54 Of what your name is. Your great eagle’s beak (Should you fly at her) had as good encounter An Albion cliff, as her more craggy liver.[1039] Bu. I’ll not attempt her, sir; her sight and name (By which I only know her) doth deter me.59 He. So do they all men else. Mo. You would say so If you knew all. Ta. Knew all, my lord? What mean you? Mo. All that I know, madam. Ta. That you know? Speak it. Mo. No, ’tis enough. I feel it. He. But, methinks Her courtship is more pure than heretofore;64 True courtiers should be modest, but not nice;[1040] Bold, but not impudent; pleasure love, not vice. Mo. Sweetheart! come hither, what if one should make Horns at Montsurry? Would it not strike him jealous Through all the proofs of his chaste lady’s virtues? Bu. If he be wise, not.70 Mo. What? Not if I should name the gardener That I would have him think hath grafted him? Bu. So the large licence that your greatness uses To jest at all men may be taught indeed To make a difference of the grounds you play on,75 Both in the men you scandal, and the matter. Mo. As how? as how? Bu. Perhaps led with a train, Where you may have your nose made less and slit, Your eyes thrust out. Mo. Peace, peace, I pray thee peace.79 Who dares do that? The brother of his king? Bu. Were your king brother in you; all your powers (Stretcht in the arms of great men and their bawds), Set close down by you; all your stormy laws Spouted with lawyers’ mouths, and gushing blood Like to so many torrents; all your glories85 Making you terrible, like enchanted flames Fed with bare cockscombs[1041] and with crooked hams;[1041] All your prerogatives, your shames, and tortures; All daring heaven, and opening hell about you;—89 Were I the man ye wrong’d so and provok’d, Though ne’er so much beneath you, like a box-tree I would out of the roughness of my root Ram hardness, in my lowness, and like death Mounted on earthquakes, I would trot through all Honours and horrors, thorough foul and fair,95 And from your whole strength toss you into the air. Mo. Go, th’art a devil; such another spirit Could not be ’still’d from all th’ Armenian dragons. O my love’s glory! Heir to all I have, (That’s all I can say, and that all I swear)100 If thou outlive me, as I know thou must, Or else hath nature no proportion’d end To her great labours; she hath breath’d a mind Into thy entrails, of desert to swell Into another great Augustus Cæsar;105 Organs and faculties fitted to her greatness; And should that perish like a common spirit, Nature’s a courtier and regards no merit. He. Here’s nought but whispering with us; like a calm Before a tempest, when the silent air110 Lays her soft ear close to the earth to hearken For that she fears steals on to ravish her; Some fate doth join our ears to hear it coming. Come, my brave eagle, let’s to covert fly; I see almighty Aether in the smoke115 Of all his clouds descending; and the sky Hid in the dim ostents[1042] of tragedy. Exit Henry with D’Ambois and Ladies. Gu. Now stir the humour, and begin the brawl. Mont. The King and D’Ambois now are grown all one.119 Mo. Nay, they are two,[1043] my lord. Mont. How’s that? Mo. No more. Mont. I must have more, my lord. Mo. What, more than two? Mont. How monstrous is this! Mo. Why? Mont. You make me horns. Mo. Not I; it is a work without my power, Married men’s ensigns are not made with fingers; Of divine fabric they are, not men’s hands.125 Your wife, you know, is a mere[1044] Cynthia, And she must fashion horns out of her nature. Mont. But doth she—dare you charge her? Speak, false prince. Mo. I must not speak, my lord; but if you’ll use The learning of a nobleman, and read,130 Here’s something to those points; soft, you must pawn[1045] Your honour having read it to return it. Mont. Not I. I pawn my honour for a paper! Mo. You must not buy it under. Exeunt Guise and Monsieur. Mont. Keep it then, And keep fire in your bosom. Ta. What says he? Mont. You must make good the rest. Ta. How fares my lord? Takes my love anything to heart he says?137 Mont. Come y’ are a—— Ta. What, my lord? Mont. The plague of Herod Feast in his rotten entrails. Ta. Will you wreak Your anger’s just cause given by him, on me? Mont. By him? Ta. By him, my lord. I have admir’d[1046] You could all this time be at concord with him, That still hath play’d such discords on your honour.143 Mont. Perhaps ’tis with some proud string of my wife’s. Ta. How’s that, my lord? Mont. Your tongue will still admire,145 Till my head be the miracle of the world. Ta. Oh, woe is me! She seems to swound. Pe. What does your lordship mean? Madam, be comforted; my lord but tries you. Madam! Help, good my lord, are you not mov’d? Do your set looks print in your words your thoughts?150 Sweet lord, clear up those eyes, Unbend that masking forehead; whence is it You rush upon her with these Irish wars, More full of sound than hurt? But it is enough; You have shot home, your words are in her heart;155 She has not liv’d to bear a trial now. Mont. Look up, my love, and by this kiss receive My soul amongst the spirits for supply To thine, chas’d with my fury. Ta. Oh, my lord, I have too long liv’d to hear this from you.160 Mont. ’T was from my troubled blood, and not from me. I know not how I fare; a sudden night Flows through my entrails, and a headlong chaos Murmurs within me, which I must digest, And not drown her in my confusions,165 That was my life’s joy, being best inform’d. Sweet, you must needs forgive me, that my love (Like to a fire disdaining his suppression) Rag’d being discourag’d; my whole heart is wounded170 When any least thought in you is but toucht, And shall be till I know your former merits; Your name and memory altogether crave In just oblivion their eternal grave; And then you must hear from me, there’s no mean In any passion I shall feel for you.176 Love is a razor, cleansing being well us’d, But fetcheth blood still being the least abus’d. To tell you briefly all: the man that left me When you appear’d, did turn me worse than woman, And stabb’d me to the heart thus, with his fingers.[1047]180 Ta. Oh, happy woman! Comes my stain from him, It is my beauty, and that innocence proves That slew Chimaera, rescued Peleus From all the savage beasts in Pelion; And rais’d the chaste Athenian prince[1048] from hell;185 All suffering with me, they for women’s lusts, I for a man’s, that the Augean stable Of his foul sin would empty in my lap. How his guilt shunn’d me, sacred innocence That where thou fear’st, art dreadful![1049] and his face190 Turn’d in flight from thee, that had thee in chase! Come, bring me to him; I will tell the serpent Even to his venom’d teeth (from whose curst seed A pitcht field starts up ’twixt my lord and me) That his throat lies, and he shall curse his fingers,195 For being so govern’d by his filthy soul. Mont. I know not if himself will vaunt t’ have been The princely author of the slavish sin, Or any other; he would have resolv’d[1050] me Had you not come; not by his word, but writing, Would I have sworn to give it him again,201 And pawn’d mine honour to him for a paper. Ta. See how he flies me still; ’tis a foul heart That fears his own hand. Good my lord, make haste To see the dangerous paper; papers hold Oft-times the forms and copies of our souls,206 And, though the world despise them, are the prizes Of all our honours; make your honour then A hostage for it, and with it confer My nearest woman here, in all she knows;210 Who (if the sun or Cerberus could have seen Any stain in me) might as well as they; And, Pero, here I charge thee by my love, And all proofs of it (which I might call bounties), By all that thou hast seen seem good in me,215 And all the ill which thou shouldst spit from thee, By pity of the wound this touch hath given me, Not as thy mistress now, but a poor woman, To death given over, rid me of my pains,219 Pour on thy powder; clear thy breast of me; My lord is only here; here speak thy worst, Thy best will do me mischief. If thou spar’st me, Never shine good thought on thy memory! Resolve, my lord, and leave me desperate. Pe. My lord! My lord hath play’d a prodigal’s part,225 To break his stock for nothing; and an insolent, To cut a gordian when he could not loose it. What violence is this, to put true fire To a false train? to blow up long-crown’d peace With sudden outrage, and believe a man230 Sworn to the shame of women, ’gainst a woman, Born to their honours? But I will to him. Ta. No, I will write (for I shall never more Meet with the fugitive) where I will defy him, Were he ten times the brother of my king.235 To him, my lord, and I’ll to cursing him. Exeunt.