MONSIEUR

Turned to Earth, alive? Up man, the Sun shines on thee. Thinkest thou men great in state, motes in the sun? They say so that would have thee freeze in shades, That (Like the gross Sicilian Gurmundist) Empty their Noses in the Cates they love, That none may eat but they. Do thou but bring Light to the Banquet Fortune sets before thee, And thou wilt loath lean Darkness Like thy Death. Who would believe thy Mettle could let sloth Rust and consume it? If Themistocles Had lived obscured thus in Athenian state, Xerxes had made both him and it his slaves. If brave Camillus had lurked so in Room, He had not five times been dictator there, Nor four times triumphed. If Epaminondas (Who lived twice twenty years obscured in Thebs) Had lived so still, he had been still unnamed, And paid his Country nor himself their right: But putting forth his strength, he rescue both From imminent ruin; and Like Burnished Steel, After long use he shined; for as the light Not only serves to show, but render us Mutually profitable; so our lives In acts exemplary, not only win Our selves good Names, but does to others give Matter for virtuous Deeds, by which we live. Leave the troubled streams, And live as Thrivers do at the Well head. No, thou needest not learn, Thou hast the Theory, now go there and practice. Thou shalt have Gloss enough, and all things fit Enchase in all show, thy long smothered spirit: Be ruled by me then. The rude Scythians Painted blind Fortune's powerful hands with wings, To show her gifts come swift and suddenly, Which if her Favourite be not swift to take, He loses them forever. Then be ruled: Exit Mons. Manet Buss. Stay but a while here, and I'll send to thee. Come mine own sweet heart I will enter thee. Sir, I have brought this Gentleman t'attend you; And pray, you would vouchsafe to do him grace. I urged her modesty in him, my Lord, and gave her those Rites, that he says she merits. Th'art mine, my love; See here's the Guises Duchess. The Countess of Mountsurreaue; Beaupres, come I'll enseam thee; Ladies, you're too many to be in counsel: I have here a friend, that I would gladly enter in your Graces. Never, my Lady. Pray thee forbear. But leave Courting his wife then. His great heart will not down, 'tis Like the Sea That partly by his own internal heat, Partly the star's daily and nightly motion, Ardor and light, and partly of the place, The diverse frames; And chiefly by the Moon, Bristled with surges, never will be won, (No, not when th'hearts of all those powers are burst) To make retreat into his settled home, Till he be crowned with his own quiet foam. Else Heaven, forgive not me: Come on brave friend. If ever Nature held herself her own, When the great Trial of a King and subject Met in one blood, both from one belly springing: Now prove her virtue and her greatness One, Or make the one the greater with the tother, (As true Kings should) and for your brother's love, (Which is a special species of true virtue) Do that you could not do, not being a King. Manly slaughter Should never bear that account of wilful murder; It being a spice of justice, where with life Offending passed law, equal life is laid In equal balance, to scourge that offence By law of reputation, which to men Exceeds all positive law, and what that leaves To true men's valours (not prefixing rights Of satisfaction, suited to their wrongs) A free men eminence may supply and take. Oh no, my Lord; it would make Cowards fear To touch the reputations of full men, When only they are left to imp the law, Justice will soon distinguish murderous minds From joust revengers: Had my friend been slain, (His enemy surviving) he should die, Since he had added to a murdered fame (Which was in his intent) a murdered man; And this had worthily been wilful murder: But my friend only saved his fame's deer life, Which is above life, taking under valve, Which in the wrong it did, was forfeit to him; And in this fact only preserves a man In his uprightness; worthy to survive Millions of such as murder men, alive. Now vanish horrors into Court attractions, Exit. For which let this balm make thee fresh and fair. Be true to the end: I have obtained a Kingdom with my friend. Exit, Yet, is my Mistress gracious? 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 advance and pull down any. Honour, whats that? your second maidenhead: And what is that? a word: the word is gone The thing remains: the rose is plucked, the stalk Abides: and easy lose where no lack's found: Believe it ther's as small lack in the lose, As there is pain ith losing: archers ever 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. Still you stand on your husband, so do all The common sex of you, when yare encountered With one you cannot fancy: all men know You live in court here by your own election, Frequenting all our solemn sports and triumphs, All the most youthful company of men: And wherefore do you this? To please your husband 'Tis gross and fulsome: if your husbands pleasure Be all your Object, and you aim at Honour, In living close to him, get you from Court, You may have him at home; these common Puttofs For common women serve: my honour? husband? Dams maritorious, never were meritorious: Speak plain and say I do not Like you Sir, You're and illfauor'd fellow in my eye, And I am answered. Then have at you here: Take (with a politic hand) this rope of Pearl; And though you be not amorous: yet be wise: Take me for wisdom; he that you can love Is near the further from you. Horror of death: could I but please your eye, You would give me the Like, ere you would lose me: Honour and husband? Farewell good husband. Exit Mons. Peace, peace, I pray thee peace. He's the better man. He has more titles. He's greater known. He's nobly born. What had my bounty drunk when it raised him? Oh so he spreads and flourishes. 'Tis true my Lord; and as this doting hand, Even out of earth, (Like Juno) struck this giant, So Jove's great ordinance shall be here implide To strike him under Aetna of his pride: To which work lend your hands and let us cast Where we may set snares for his gadding greatness. I think it best, amongst our greatest women: For there is no such trap to catch and upstarted As a lose downfall; and indeed their falls Are th'ends of all men's rising: if great men And wise; make escapes to please advantage 'Tis with a woman: women that worst may Still hold men's candles: they direct and know All things amiss in all men; and their women All things amiss in them: through whose charmed mouths We may see all the close escapes of the Court: When the most royal beast of chase (being old, And cunning in his choice of layres and haunts) Can never be discovered to the bow The piece or hound: yet where his custom is To Beatrice his vault, and he ruts with his hind, The place is marked, and by his Venery He still is taken. Shall we then attempt The chiefest mean to that discovery here, And court our greatest Ladies greatest women, With shows of love, and liberal promises? 'Tis but our breath. If something given in hand, Sharpen their Hope's of more; twilbe well venterd. I have already broke the ice, my Lord, With the most trusted woman of your Countess, And hope I shall wade through to our discovery, Well said: a S pirt of Courtship of all hands: Now mine own Pero: hast thou remembered me For the discovery I entreated thee to make concerning Thy Mistress? speak boldly, and be sure of all things I have pro mised. That's all one: so it be not to one that will betray thee: forth I beseech thee. Excellent Pero thou revivest me: may I sink quick into earth here, if my tongue discover it. D'Ambois? Dost thou not dream wench? The devil he is, and thy Lady his dam: infinite re gions betwixt a woman's tongue and her heart: is this our God desk of chastity? I thought I could not be so sleighted: if she had not her freight beside: and therefore plotted this with her woman: deer Pero I will advance thee for ever: but tell me now: Gods precious it transforms me with admiration: sweet Pero, whom should she trust with his conveyance? Or, all the doors being made sure, how could his conveyance be per formed? Well, lets favour our apprehensions with forbearing that a little: for if my heart were not hoopt with adamant, the conceit of this would have burst it: but hark thee. Come we'll put off all, with seeming only to have courted; away dry palm: sh'as a liver as hard as a biscuit: a man may go a whole voyage with her, and get nothing but tempests at her windpipe. Indeed that's the way to make you right openarses. But ahlas you have no portions fit for such husbands as we wish you. What woman? what are those portions? I marry wench, I think thy portion is a right riddle, a man shall never find it out: but lets hear it. Is this your portion? Believe me I cannot riddle it. Your chastity? let me begin with the end of you; how is a woman's chastity nearest a man, when 'tis furthest off? Farewell riddle. Now my Lords, what fruit of our inquisition? feel you nothing budding yet? Speak good my Lord Mountsurry. Your wife, my Lord? Think you that possible? Her last hour? why that comes upon her the more she flies it: Does D'Ambois so think you? And and Ass confident, my Lord, 'tis true, and more will come forth shortly, get you to the banquet. Exit Guise cum Mont. Oh the unfounded Sea of women's bloods, That when 'tis calmest, is most dangerous; Not any wrinkle creaming in their faces, When in their hearts are Scylla and Charibdis, Which still are hid in monster-formed clouds, Where never day shines, nothing ever grows, But weeds and poisons, that no statesman knows; Not Cerberus ever saw the damned nooks Hid with the vails of women's virtuous looks: I will conceal all yet, and give more time To D'Ambois trial, now upon my hook; He awes my throat; else Like Sybilla's Cave It should breath oracles; I fear him strangely, And may resemble his advanced valour Unto a spirit raised without a circle, Endangering him that ignorantly raised him, And for whose fury he hath learned no limit. How now, what leapest thou at? Thou dreamest awake: Object in empty air? Pray thee what meanest thou? Oh fie upon thee. Wilt thou not leave that wrongful supposition? This still hath made me doubt thou dost not love me. Wilt thou do one thing for me then sincerely? Still in that discord, and ill taken note? I will not then, and now by all my love Shown to thy virtues, and by all fruits else Already sprung from that affection, I charge thee utter (even with all the freedom Both of thy noble nature and thy friendship) The full and plain state of me in thy thoughts. I am no such great fool, and therefore charge thee Even from the root of thy free heart, display me. A bargain of mine honour; and make this, That prove we in our full dissection Never so foul, live still the sounder friends. I will I swear. I think thee then a man, That dares as much as a wild horse or Tiger; As headstrong and as bloody; and to feed The ravenous wolf of thy most Cannibal valour, (Rather than not employ it) thou wouldst turn Hackster to any whore, slave to a Jew, Or English usurer, to force possessions, And cut men's throats of mortgaged estates; Or thou would 'st tire thee Like a Tinkers wife, And murder market folks, quarrel with sheep, And run as mad as Ajax; serve a Butcher, Do any thing but killing of the King: That in thy valour th'art Like other naturals, That have strange gifts in nature, but no soul Diffused quite through, to make them of a piece, But stop at humours, that are more absurd, Childish and villainous than that hackster, whore, Slave, cutthroat, Tinkers bitch, compared before: And in those humours wouldst envy, betray, Slander, blaspheme, change each hour a religion; Do any thing, but killing of the King; That in that valour (which is still my dunghill, To which I carry all filth in thy house) Th'art more ridiculous and vainglorious Than any Mountibancke; and impudent Than any painted bawd; which, not to sooth And glorify thee Like a Jupiter Hammon, Thou eatest thy heart in vinegar; and thy gall Turns all thy blood to poison, which is cause Of that Toad-poole that stands in thy complexion; And makes thee (with a cold and earthy moisture, Which is the dam of putrefaction, As plague to thy damned pride) rot as thou livest; To study calumnies and treacheries; To thy friends slaughters, Like a Scrich-owle sing, And to all mischiefs, but to kill the King. How thinkest thou? Do I flatter? Speak I not Like a trusty friend to thee? Why now I see thou lovest me, come to the banquet. But here the Moons are changed (as the King notes) And either men rule in them, or some power Beyond their voluntary motions: For nothing can recover their lost faces. The man? why Madam d'ee not know his name? Hark sweet heart, hee'rs a bound set to your valour: It cannot enter here; no, not to notice Of what your name is; your great Eagles beak (Should you fly at her) had as good encounter And Albion cliff, as her more craggy liver. You would say so If you knew all. All that I know Madam. No 'tis enough I feel it. Sweet heart: come hither, what if one should make Horns at Mountsurry? would it strike him jealous Through all the proofs of his chaste Ladies virtues? Not if I named the man With whom I would make him suspicious His wife hath armed his forehead? Peace, peace, I pray thee peace. Who dares do that? the brother of his King? Go, th'art a devil; such another spirit Could not be styled, from all Th'Armenian dragons. Oh my Loves glory: heir to all I have: That's all I can say, and that all I swear. If thou outlive me, as I know thou must, Or else hath nature no proportioned end To her great labors: she hath breathed a spirit Into thy entrails, of effect to swell Into another great Augustus Caesar: Organs, and faculties fitted to her greatness: And should that perish Like a common spirit, Nature's a Courtier and regards no merit. Nay, they are two my Lord. No more. What more than two? Why? 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; Your wife, you know, is a Mere Cynthia, And she must fashion horns out of her Nature. I must not speak my Lord: but if yow'le use The learning of a noble man, and read Here's something to those points: soft you must pawn Your honour having read it to return it. You must not buy it under. Ent. Tamy. Pero. No, be still and see. There is a glass of ink wherein you see How to make ready black faced Tragedy: You now discern, I hope through all her paintings Her gasping wrinkles, and fame's sepulchres. What stricken dumb? nay fie, Lord be not daunted: Your case is common: were it never so rare Bear it as rarely: now to laugh were manly: A worthy man should imitate the weather That sings in tempests: and being clear is silent. Do my Lord, And make her name her concealed messenger: That close and most inennerable Pander That passes all our studies to exquire: By whom convey the letter to her love: And so you shall be sure to have him come Within the thirsty reach of your revenge; Before which, lodge and ambush in her chamber Behind the arras of your stoutest men All close and soundly armed: and let them share A spirit amongst them, that would serve a thousand. Poor, loving lady, she'll make all good yet, Think you not so my Lord? This was ill done y'faith. Exit Mont. Then much good doo't thee Pero: hast a letter? Now out upon her. You shall presently: how fares my Pero? Whose there? take in this maid sh'as caught a clap: And fetch my surgeon to her; come my Lord, We'll now peruse our letter. Exeunt Mons. Guise. Now shall we see, that nature hath no end, In her great works, responsive to their worths, That she who makes so many eyes, and souls, To see and foresee, is stark blind herself: And as illiterate men say Latin prayers By root of heart, and daily iteration; In whose hight zeal, a man would think they knew What they ran so away with, and were sure To have rewards proportioned to their labours; Yet may implore their own confusions For any thing they know, which oftentimes It falls out they incur: So nature lays A mass of stuff together, and by use, Or by the mere necessity of matter, Ends such a work, fills it, or leaves it empty, Of strength, or virtue, error or clear truth; Not knowing what she does; but usually Gives that which we call merit to a man, And believe should arrive him on huge riches, Honour, and happiness, that effects his ruin; Right as in ships of war, whole lasts of powder Are laid (men think) to make them last, and guard them; When a disordered spark that powder taking, Blows up with sudden violence and horror Ships that kept empty, had sailed long with terror. Why you shall see it here, here will be one Young, learned, valiant, virtuous, and full manned; One on whom Nature spent so rich a hand, That, with and ominous eye, she wept to see So much consumed her virtuous treasury; Yet, as the winds sing through a hollow tree, And (since it lets them pass through) let it stand But a tree solid, since it gives no way To their wild rages, they rend up by the root: So this full creature now shall reel and fallen, Before the frantic puffs of purblind chance That pipes thorough empty men, and makes them dance: Not so the Sea raves on the Lybian sands, Tumbling her billows in each others neck: Not so the surges of the euxine Sea (Near to the frosty Pole, where free Boots From those dark-deep waves turns his radiant Term) Swell being enraged, even from their inmost drop, As Fortune swings about the restless state Of virtue, now thrown into all men's hate. Revive those stupid thoughts, and fit not thus, Gathering the horrors of your servants slaughter, (So urged by your hand, and so imminent) Into and idle fancy; but devise How to prevent it; watch when he shall rise, And with a sudden outcry of his murder, Blow his retreat before he be engaged. Good day, my love: what up and ready too!