Bussy D'Ambois and The Revenge of Bussy D'Ambois Part 43

_Cler._ O tis a vexing sight to see a man, Out of his way, stalke proud as hee were in; Out of his way, to be officious, Observant, wary, serious, and grave, Fearefull, and pa.s.sionate, insulting, raging, 120 Labour with iron flailes to thresh downe feathers Flitting in ayre.

_Ren._ What one considers this, Of all that are thus out? or once endevours, Erring, to enter on mans right-hand path?

_Cler._ These are too grave for brave wits; give them toyes; 125 Labour bestow'd on these is harsh and thriftlesse.

If you would Consull be (sayes one) of Rome, You must be watching, starting out of sleepes; Every way whisking; gloryfying Plebeians; Kissing Patricians hands, rot at their dores; 130 Speake and doe basely; every day bestow Gifts and observance upon one or other: And what's th'event of all? Twelve rods before thee; Three or foure times sit for the whole tribunall; Exhibite Circean games; make publike feasts; 135 And for these idle outward things (sayes he) Would'st thou lay on such cost, toile, spend thy spirits?

And to be voide of perturbation, For constancie, sleepe when thou would'st have sleepe, Wake when thou would'st wake, feare nought, vexe for nought, 140 No paines wilt thou bestow? no cost? no thought?

_Ren._ What should I say? As good consort with you As with an angell; I could heare you ever.

_Cler._ Well, in, my lord, and spend time with my sister, And keepe her from the field with all endeavour. 145 The souldiers love her so, and shee so madly Would take my apprehension, if it chance, That bloud would flow in rivers.

_Ren._ Heaven forbid!

And all with honour your arrivall speede! _Exit._

_Enter Messenger with two Souldiers like Lackies._

_Messenger._ Here are two lackies, sir, have message to you. 150

_Cler._ What is your message? and from whom, my friends?

_1[st Soldier.]_ From the Lieutenant, Colonell, and the Captaines, Who sent us to informe you that the battailes Stand ready rang'd, expecting but your presence To be their honor'd signall when to joyne, 155 And we are charg'd to runne by, and attend you.

_Cler._ I come. I pray you see my running horse Brought to the backe-gate to mee.

_Mess._ Instantly. _Exit Mess[enger]._

_Cler._ Chance what can chance mee, well or ill is equall In my acceptance, since I joy in neyther, 160 But goe with sway of all the world together.

In all successes Fortune and the day To mee alike are; I am fixt, be shee Never so fickle; and will there repose, Farre past the reach of any dye she throwes. 165 _Ex[it] c.u.m Pediss[equis]._

_Finis Actus tertii._

LINENOTES:

114 _as't_. Emended by ed.; Q, as.

ACTUS QUARTI SCaeNA PRIMA.

[_A Parade-Ground near Cambrai._]

_Alarum within: Excursions over the Stage._

_The [Soldiers disguised as] Lackies running, Maillard following them._

_Maillard._ Villaines, not hold him when ye had him downe!

_1[st Soldier.]_ Who can hold lightning? Sdeath a man as well Might catch a canon bullet in his mouth, And spit it in your hands, as take and hold him.

_Mail._ Pursue, enclose him! stand or fall on him, 5 And yee may take him. Sdeath! they make him guards. _Exit._

_Alarum still, and enter Chalon._

_Challon._ Stand, cowards, stand; strike, send your bullets at him.

_1[st Soldier.]_ Wee came to entertaine him, sir, for honour.

_2[d Soldier.]_ Did ye not say so?

_Chal._ Slaves, hee is a traitor; Command the horse troopes to over-runne the traitor.

_Exeunt._ 10

_Shouts within. Alarum still, and Chambers shot off.

Then enter Aumall._

_Aumale._ What spirit breathes thus in this more then man, Turnes flesh to ayre possest, and in a storme Teares men about the field like autumne leaves?

He turnd wilde lightning in the lackies hands, Who, though their sodaine violent twitch unhorst him, 15 Yet when he bore himselfe, their saucie fingers Flew as too hot off, as hee had beene fire.

The ambush then made in, through all whose force Hee drave as if a fierce and fire-given canon Had spit his iron vomit out amongst them. 20 The battailes then in two halfe-moones enclos'd him, In which he shew'd as if he were the light, And they but earth, who, wondring what hee was, Shruncke their steele hornes and gave him glorious pa.s.se.

And as a great shot from a towne besieg'd 25 At foes before it flyes forth blacke and roring, But they too farre, and that with waight opprest (As if disdaining earth) doth onely gra.s.se, Strike earth, and up againe into the ayre, Againe sinkes to it, and againe doth rise, 30 And keepes such strength that when it softliest moves It piece-meale shivers any let it proves-- So flew brave Clermont forth, till breath forsooke him, Then fell to earth; and yet (sweet man) even then His spirits convulsions made him bound againe 35 Past all their reaches; till, all motion spent, His fixt eyes cast a blaze of such disdaine, All stood and star'd, and untouch'd let him lie, As something sacred fallen out of the skie. _A cry within._ O now some rude hand hath laid hold on him! 40

_Enter Maillard, Chalon leading Clermont, Captaines and Souldiers following._

See, prisoner led, with his bands honour'd more Then all the freedome he enjoy'd before.

_Mail._ At length wee have you, sir.

_Clermont._ You have much joy too; I made you sport. Yet, but I pray you tell mee, Are not you perjur'd?

_Mail._ No: I swore for the King. 45

_Cler._ Yet perjurie, I hope, is perjurie.

_Mail._ But thus forswearing is not perjurie.

You are no politician: not a fault, How foule soever, done for private ends, Is fault in us sworne to the publike good: 50 Wee never can be of the d.a.m.ned crew; Wee may impolitique our selves (as 'twere) Into the kingdomes body politique, Whereof indeede we're members; you misse termes.

_Cler._ The things are yet the same. 55

_Mail._ Tis nothing so; the propertie is alter'd: Y'are no lawyer. Or say that othe and othe Are still the same in number, yet their species Differ extreamely, as, for flat example, When politique widowes trye men for their turne, 60 Before they wed them, they are harlots then, But when they wed them, they are honest women: So private men, when they forsweare, betray, Are perjur'd treachers, but being publique once, That is, sworne-married to the publique good-- 65

_Cler._ Are married women publique?

_Mail._ Publique good; For marriage makes them, being the publique good, And could not be without them: so I say Men publique, that is, being sworne-married To the good publique, being one body made 70 With the realmes body politique, are no more Private, nor can be perjur'd, though forsworne, More then a widow married, for the act Of generation is for that an harlot, Because for that shee was so, being unmarried: 75 An argument _a paribus_.

_Chal._ Tis a shrow'd one.