CHABOT

My wives Father Sir, is closely come to Court. He says Sir, 'tis because the extreme of height Makes a man less seem to the imperfect eye Then he is truly, his acts envied more, And though he nothing cares for seeming, so His being just stand firm betwixt heaven and him, Yet since in his souls jealousy, he fears That he himself advanced, would undervalue Men placed beneath him, and their business with him, Since height of place oft dazzles height of judgement, He takes his top sail down in such rough storms, And apts his sails to airs more temperate. You are most welcome. Still your old argument, I owe your love fort. Report has not abused you Sir. Sir, We both are reconciled. I conceive Sir We both may be enriched, and raise our Fortune's Even with our places in our Sovereigns favour: Though passed the height of others, yet within The rules of Law and Justice, and approve Our actions white and innocent. Your censure herein tastes some passion Sir, And I beseech you nourish better thoughts, Then to imagine that the Kings mere grace Sustains such prejudice by those it honours; That of necessity we must pervert it With passionate enemies, and ambitious boundless Avarice, and every licence incident To fortunate greatness, and that all abuse it For the most impious avarice of some. But we have such a master of our King In the Imperial art, that no power flies Out of his favour, but his policy ties A criance to it, to contain it still; And for the reconcilement of us Sir, Never were two in favour, that were more, One in all love of Justice, and true honour, Though in the act and pro ecution Pehaps we differ. Howsoever yet One beam us both creating, what should let That both our souls should both one met le bear, And that one stamp, one word, one character. I do not Like his working of the King, For if it be a suit made known to him, And fit to pass, he wrought himself to it, However my hand goes to no such grant, But first I'll know and censure it my self. Does this bear title of his Lordship's suit? No thought the rather, But now the rather all powers against it, The suit being most injust, and he pretending In all his actions justice, on the sudden After his so late vow not to violate it, Is strange and vile, and if the King himself Should own and urge it, I would stay and cross it, For 'tis within the free power of my office, And I should strain his kingdom if I passed it, I see their poor attempts, and giddy malice; Is this the reconcilement that so lately He vowed in sacred witness of the King? Assuring me, he never more would offer To pass a suit unjust, which I well know This is, above all, and have often been urged To give it passage, be you Sir the Judge. Yet you may hear it Sir. And honest merchant Presuming on our league of France with Spain, Brought into Spain a wealthy ship, to vent Her fit commodities to serve the country, Which, in the place of suffering their sail Were seized to recompense a Spanish ship Prized by a French man, ere the league was made, No suits, no letters of our Kings could gain Our Merchant's first right in it, but his letters Unreverently received, the Kings self scandal, Beside the leagues breach, and the foul injustice Done to our honest merchant, who endured all, Till some small time since (authorised by our counsel, Though not in open Court ) he made a ship out, And took a Spaniard, brings all home, and sues To gain his full proved lose, full recompense Of his just prize, his prize is stayed and ceased, Yet for the Kings disposure, and the Spaniard Makes suit to be restored her, which this bill Would f ine get granted, feigning (as they hoped) With my allowance, and way given to make Our Country men in Spain their absolute prize. Should I pass it. If this would seem His Lordship's suit, his love to me, and justice Including plots upon me, while my simpleness Is seriously vowed to reconcilement; Love him good vulgars, and abhor me still, For if I court your slattery with my crimes, Heavens love before me fly, till in my tomb I stick pursuing it, and for this bill, Thus say it shivered, bless us equal heaven! Much profit may my foes make of such servants, I love no enemy I have so well, To take so ill a bargain from his hands. I uva ke no desert, yet go armed with that, That would give wildest beasts instincts to rescue, Rather then offer any force to hurt me; My innocence is, which is a conquering justice, As wears a shield, that both defends and fights. The more the odds, The less the conquest, or if all the world Be thought and army fit to employ gainst one, That one is argued fit to fight gainst all; If I fallen under them, this breast shall bear Their heap digested in my sepulchre, Death is the life of good men, let e'm come. Dare you confess the sending of that bill. Because it break your oath Made in our reconcilement, and betrays The honour, and the chief life of the King Which is his justice. No less, and that I'll prove to him. His judgement nor his favour I respect, So I preserve his Justice. All your great law, and learning are but words, When I plead plainly, naked truth, and deeds, Which though you seek to fray with state, and glory, I'll shoot a shaft at all your globe of light, If lightning split it, yet it high and right. I serve not you for them, but for your self, And that good in your Rule, that Justice does you, And care not this what others say, so you Please but to do me right for what you know. My self am nothing Compared to what I seek, 'tis justice only The fount and flood, both of your strength and kingdoms. Sir, your regards to both are great, and sacred, But if the innocence, and right that raised me And means for mine, can find no friend hereafter Of him that ever lives, and ever seconds All Kings just bounties with defence, and refuge In just men's races, let my fabric ruin, My stock want sap, my branches by the root Be orne to death, and swept with whirlwinds out. No my liege, 'Tis for your love, and right that I stand out. I cannot Sir Should any Oracle become my counsel, For that I stand not out, thus of set will, Or pride of any singular conceit, My e ̄ ne ̄ mies, and the world may clearly know, I taste no sweets to drown in others gall, And to affect in that which makes me loathed, To leave my self and mine exposed to all The dangers you proposed, my purchased honours, And all my Fortune's in and instant lost, That money, cares, and pains, and years have gathered, How mad were I to rave thus in my wounds, Unless my known health felt in these forced issues Were found, and fit, and that I did not know By most true proofs, that to become sincere With all men's hates, does far excëede their loves, To be as they are, mixtures of corruption? And that those envies that I see pursue me Of all true actions are the natural consequents Which being my object, and my resolute choice Not for my good but yours, I will have justice. You have so. No Sir, they were not given me to that end, But to uphold my will, my will being just. I Sir, in this case your royal thoughts are fitly Exempt from every curious search of one, You have the general charge with care of all. Far be the misery from you, that you may, My cares, pains, broken sleep therein made more Then yours should make me see more, and my forces Render of better judgement. You merit not of me for benefits More than my self of you for services. 'Tis true. I to the death and will approve to all men. Find them being good. They cannot. The more you sift The more you shall refine me. Not with laws uttermost. And I'll endure the chance, The dice being square. Reposed in dreadless confidence, and conscience, That all your most extremes shall never reach, Or to my life, my goods or honours breach. Witness heaven, I cannot. Were I dissolved, and nothing else but soul. I were mad Directly Sir, if I were yet to know Not the sure danger, but the certain ruin Of men shot into law from Kings bent brow, There being no dream from the most muddy brain Upon the foulest fa cy, that can forge More horror in the shadows of mere fame, Then can some Lawyer in a man exposed To his interpretation by the King, But these grave toys I shall despise in death, And while I live will lay them open so (My inocence laid by them) that Like foils They shall stick of my merits ten times more, And make your bounties nothing, for who gives And hits ith teeth, himself pays with the glory For which he gave, as being his end of giving, Not to crown merits, or do any good, And so no thanks is endue but to his glory. No Sir, 'tis plain, and rude But true, and spotless, and where you object My hearty, and gross vulgar love of riches, Titles, and honours, I did never seek them For any love to them, but to that justice You ought to use in their endue gift to merits, To show you royal, and most open handed, Not using for hands talons, pincers, grapples; In whose gripes, and upon whose gord point, Deserts hang sprawling out their virtuous limbs, This your glory is My deserts wrought upon no wretched matter, But showed your royal palms as free, and moist, As Ida, all enchased with silver springs, And yet my merit still their equal sings. My person shall, my love and faith shall never. ANd have they put my faithful servant to the rack, Heaven arm the honest man. Many upon the torture have confessed Things against truth, and yet his pain sits nearer Than all my other fears, come don't weep. No more, the King is just, and by exposing me To this trial, means to render me More happy to his Subject's, and himself His sacred will be obeyed, take thy own spirit, And let no thought in fringe thy peace for me, I go to have my honours all confirmed; Farewell thy lip, my cause has so much innocence, It shanot need thy prayer, I leave her yours Till my return; o let me be a son Still in your thoughts, now Gentlemen set forward. I shall, and briefly, The furious eloquence of my accuser hath Branched my offences heinous to the King, And then his subject, a most vast indictment, That to the King I have justified my merit, And services; which conscience of that truth, That gave my actions life when they are questioned, I ought to urge again, and do without The least partly of injustice; for the Bill A foul, and most unjust one, and preferred Gainst the Kings honour, and his Subject's privilege, And with a policy to betray my office, And faith to both, I do confess I tore it, It being pressed immodestly, but without A thought of disobedience to his name, To whose mention I bow, with humble reverence, And dare appeal to the Kings knowledge of me, How far I am in soul from such a rebel, For the rest my Lord, and you my honoured Judges, Since all this mountain all this time in labour With more than mortal fury gainst my life, Hath brought forth nought but some ridiculous vermin, I will not wrong my right, and innocence, With any serious plea in my reply, To frustrate breath, and fight with terrible shadow That have been forged, and forced against my state, But leave all, with my life to your free censures; Only beseeching all your learned judgements Equal and pious conscience to weigh. The variety, and wonder now presented To your most noble notice, and the world's, That all my life and actions, and offices, Explored with all the hundred eyes of Law Lighted with lightning, shot out of the wrath Of and incensed, and commanding King, And blown with foes, with far more bitter winds, Then Winter from his Eastern cave exhailes, Yeh nothing found, but what you all have herd, And then consider if a peer of State, Should be exposed to such a wild arraignment For poor complaints, his fame, faith, life, and honours Racked for no more. Vouchsafe great Sir to assure me what you said, You named my pardon. You cannot pardon me Sir. It is a word carries too much relation To and offence, of which I am not guilty, And I must still be bold where truth still arms, In spite of all those frowns that would deject me To say I need no pardon. Yes, and that justifies me much the more, For whatsoever false report hath brought you, I was condemned for nothing that could reach To prejudice my life, my goods or honour, As first in firmness of my conscience, I confidently told you, not alas Presuming on your slender thread of favour, Or pride of fortunate and courtly boldness, But what my faith and justice bade me trust too, For none of all your learned assistant Judges, With all the malice of my crimes could urge, Or fell nigh or hurt of sacred power. I am much grieved. Madam you infinitely oblige our duty. Allegre I am glad he hath so much strength, I prithee let me see him. Nay then— Welcome my injured servant, what a misery Would they made on thee? Alas poor man! Were all my joys essential, and so mighty As the affected world believes I taste, This object were enough to unsweeten all, Though in thy absence I had suffering, And felt within me a strong sympathy, While for my sake their cruelty did vex, And fright thy nerves with horror of thy sense, Yet in this spectacle I apprehend More grief than all my imagination Could let before into me; didst not curse me Upon the torture? Allegre, thou dost bear thy wounds upon thee, In wide and spacious characters, but in The volume of my sadness thou dost want And eye to read and open force, hath torn Thy manly sinews which sometime may cure The engine is not seen that wounds thy Master, Passed all the remedy of art or time, The flatteries of Court, of fame or honours, Thus in the Summer a tall flourishing tree, Transplanted by strong hand, with all her leaves And blooming pride upon her makes a show Of Spring, tempting the eye with wanton blossom, But not the Sun with all her amorous smiles, The dews of morning's, or the tears of night, Can root her fibers in the earth again, Or make her bosom kind, to growth and bearing, But the tree withers, and those very beams That once were natural warmth to her soft verdure Dry up her sap and shoot a fever through The bark and rind, till she becomes a burden To that which gave her life: so Chabot, Chabot. No no, thou shanot Be troubled, I but stirred thee with a moral, Thats empty contains nothing, I am well, See I can walk poor man, thou hast not strength yet. Thou hast not herd yet whats become oth' Chancel lor? Poor gentleman, when I think Upon the King, I've balm enough to cure A thousand wounds, have I not Allegre? Was ever bounteous mercy read in story, Like his upon my life, condemned for sacrifice By Law, and snatched out of the flame unlooked for, And unpetitioned? but his justice then That wood not spare whom his own love made great, But give me up to the most cruel test Of Judges, for some boldness in defence Of my own merits, and my honest faith to him Was rare, passed example. You too much honour your poor servant sir, My heart dispares so rich a monument; But when it die— I have found A glorious harvest in your savour sir, And by this overslow of royal grace, All my deserts are shadows and sly from me, I have not in the wealth of my desires, Enough to pay you now, yet you encourage me To make one suit. You would be pleased take notice of this Gentleman, A Secretary of mine. His limbs want strength to tender their full duty, And honest man that suffers for my sake. You are gracious, and in this act have put All our complaints to silence, you Allegre, Cherish your health, and feeble limbs which cannot Without much prejudice be thus employed; All my best wishes with thee. Oh far be such injustice, I know his doom is heavy, and I beg Where mercy may be let into his sentence For my sake you would soften it, I have Glory enough to be set right in yours, And my deer countries thought, and by and act With such apparent notice to the world. I will strive To show that pious gratitude to you but— My frame hath lately sir been taken a peec S, And but now put together, the least force Of mirth will shake and unjoint all my reason, Your patience royal sir. My strength would latter me. Who would not wish to live to serve your goodness. Stand from me, you betray me with your fears, The plummets may fallen off that hang upon My heart, they were but thoughts at first, or if They weigh me down to death let not my eyes Close with another object then the King, Let him be last I look on. I must beg One other boon. I observe A fierce and killing wrath engendered in you; For my sake, as you wish me strength to serve you, Forgive your Chancellor, let not the story Of Philip Chabot read hereafter draw A tear from any family, I beseech Your royal mercy on his life, and free Remission of all seizure upon his state, I have no comfort else. Sir I must kneel to thank you, It is not sealed else, your blessed hand live happy, May all you trust have no less faith then Chabot, O. Which for it self Sir, resolve to keep Pure, and inviolable, needing none To encourage or confirm it, but my own Love and allegiance to your sacred counsel. I dare not Sir. I should be ingrateful To such a master, as no subject boasted To leave his service when they exact My chiefest duty, and attendance Sir. It seems then they have weighed the importance of it, And know the grant is just. I were malicious to my self, and desperate To force untruths upon my soul, and when 'Tis clear, to confess a shame to exercise Your pardon sir, were I so foul and monstrous As I am given to you, you would commit A sin next mine, by wronging your own mercy To let me draw out impious breath, it will Release your wonder, if you give command To see your process, and if it prove other Than I presume to Inform, tear me in pieces. I never had a fear of the Kings Justice, And yet I Know not what creeps over my heart, And leaves and ice beneath it, my Lord Chancellor, You have my forgiveness, but implore heavens pardon For wrongs to equal justice, you shall want No charity of mine to mediate To the King for you. Stay by all means Allegre, 'tshall concern ̄ you, I'm infinitely honoured in his presence.